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THE 

GREEK SLAVE. 


®ratt0lateb from tlje CSerman 


OF 


V- 

FRANZ HOFFMANN, 

n 


Rev. T. C. BRODFUHRER. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

LUTHERAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION, 

42 North Ninth Street. 

I 870. 










Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the 


LUTHERAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION, 


In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States in and 
for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 


/ 

Whstcott & Thomson, 
StereotyPers, Philada. 


Caxton Press of 

Sherman & Co., Philadelphia. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

A GRECIAN FAMILY 9 

CHAPTER 11. 

THE ATTACK 26 

CHAPTER HI. 

THE SEPARATION AT THE SLAVE MART 41 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE SON OF THE PASHA 57 

CHAPTER V. 

A POWERFUL PROTECTOR 85 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE SHIP CAPTAIN 109 

CHAPTER VH. 

THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT X30 

7 


8 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER VIII. 

PAGE 

THE BEDOUINS 160 

CHAPTER IX. 

BITTER DISAPPOINTMENTS 190 

CHAPTER X. 

REUNION 204 

CHAPTER XI. 

A FRIEND IN NEED 224 



The Greek Slave. 


CHAPTER I. 

A GRECIAN FAMIL Y. 

BOUT thirty years ago there stood a 



beautiful villa on a gentle declivity of 
the southern coast of Candia. The house, 
neat and ornamented with colonnades covered 
with grape-vines and ivy, presented a most 
pleasing and attractive appearance. 

The surrounding scenery was highly pic- 
turesque. On the south lay the dark blue 
sea, with its sunlit waves, and in the distance 
ships and small craft with studding-sails, 
passing to and fro like things of life. On 


9 



lO 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


the north rose the Sphakiotic Mountains, 
from whose deep gorges came babbling 
brooks and silver streamlets hastening to the 
sea, and whose rounded summits and rugged 
cliffs were covered with leafy forests, whilst 
the jagged peaks seemed to be veiled in the 
blue mist. The lofty Psilorati, called Ida 
by the ancient Greeks, is seen towering 
grandly above surrounding heights, lifting 
his head majestically to the clouds, and 
crowned with a sparkling diadem of ice. 

The villa was surrounded with a garden in 
the finest culture. Its beautiful walks, its 
bowers of variegated flowers, the fountains, 
the little citron and orange groves, the copse 
of olive trees and vine plants, gave it an air 
of freshness and sweetness and beauty that 
reminded one of paradise. 

The beautiful house, with the garden and 
the more distant plantations of tobacco, cot- 
ton and olive trees, was the property of a 


A GRECIAN FAMILY. 


II 


Greek by the name of Messaros. Here he 
lived with his wife Helen and son Philip, a 
fresh and handsome boy, who at the time our 
story begins had just completed his sixth 
year. He spent his days in quiet retirement, 
and divided his time between work and a 
few hours of recreation, usually spent in com- 
pany with his wife and child. Although in 
affluent circumstances, he disdained to make 
any other use of his wealth than to share it 
with the poorer inhabitants of the island who 
lived in his neighborhood and were of his 
faith. 

Bowed beneath the yoke of their Turkish 
masters, who then, as now, were rulers of the 
beautiful island, the greater part of the Chris- 
tian inhabitants were subjected to robberies 
and depredations, which at that time were 
carried on in the most shameless manner. 
The Turk looked with contempt upon the 
poor Greeks, whom he regarded as little bet- 


12 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


ter than slaves and serfs, and his rapacious 
hand fearlessly seized the fruits of their in- 
dustry and toil. The poor Greek must look 
on with silent anguish as the Turk came upon 
his errand of marauding, when the bloom- 
ing grain was trampled under the hoofs of his 
steed, or when he insolently scorned his 
faith, which was dearer to the Christian suf- 
ferer than his fields of grain. ’Tis true, the 
eye of the oppressed sometimes sparkled with 
anger, and his hand was ready to seize the 
dagger in his belt, but a glance at his wife 
and child checked the kindling passion and 
constrained him to patient endurance of all 
the evils imposed upon him by these haughty 
rulers. What good could possibly come 
from the indulgence of passion and revenge 
against his tormentor? To put down one 
would only raise up others exasperated by 
resistance and prompted to inflict severer 
punishments. 


A GRECIAN FAMILY. I3 

There was no lack of instances in which 
the Turks took bloody revenge on such as 
had dared to rebel. Terrible deeds have 
been related, at the bare recital of which the 
blood would turn to ice and the hair of the 
head stand on end. To burn the hut, to 
desolate the fields, to impale the father, to 
drag the mother into lasting slavery, to dash 
the heads of the poor innocent children 
against the stones, — ^this was what the Turks 
did when they found the slightest resistance 
to their shameless oppression and cruelties. 

Of course there were exceptions among 
them, but they were of the noble few who 
could seldom check the cruel wickedness 
of the many. It was natural that under 
such a government the poor Greeks should 
sink into the most abject poverty and wretch- 
edness; and comparatively few were able, 
even with great prudence, to maintain a mod- 
erate degree of prosperity. 


14 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


Messaros belonged to this class, and for- 
tunately his possessions lay distant from the 
cities and places in which the Turks com- 
mitted their depredations. He, moreover, 
by timely and valuable presents to the pasha 
of Candia, had secured the favor of this 
mighty ruler ; and besides, he was careful to 
maintain the utmost composure under the 
petty annoyances and oppressions which acci- 
dentally or intentionally occurred in his pres- 
ence. To be sure, his heart often bounded 
with indignation at the audacity of the cruel 
masters, but his self-control was such as never 
to betray either by look or act the storm that 
raged within. He bore every rudeness of 
the Turks with seeming indifference, and by 
the utmost prudence of deportment escaped 
with comparatively little sacrifice. 

But how great his scorn of the oppressors 
was showed itself when the hour at last came 
which promised deliverance from the oppres- 


A GRECIAN FAMILY. I5 

sion SO long and ignominiously borne. The 
call to arms resounded throughout all Greece, 
and the brave Christian inhabitants of the 
island of Candia were among the first to join 
in the general uprising, and with their breth- 
ren to struggle for freedom and their holy- 
faith. Messaros placed himself at the head 
of a courageous band. Leaving his dear 
wife and his beloved and only son, he en- 
gaged in the terrible conflict against the 
cruel despoilers, and waged unyielding bat- 
tle for the most precious treasures of an 
oppressed and Christian people, for freedom 
and religion. 

Weeks had elapsed since Messaros had 
plunged with enthusiasm into the unequal 
combat, since with a small band of brave 
men he had gone forth to struggle against 
the Turkish army, which far outnumbered his 
little company. 

Seldom was anything heard of him at home, 


l6 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

where his wife Helen with anxiety and fear 
prayed for her absent husband, the father of 
her child, who was now distant and sur- 
rounded by a thousand dangers. It is 
true, rumors of battles, of victories and de- 
feats floated through the valleys, and now 
and then reached the house on the hill, but 
none brought definite information of the prog- 
ress of the great contest, nor any news of 
Messaros and his small troop. No wonder, 
therefore, that Helen was filled with solicitude 
for her husband; no wonder that she often 
raised her thoughts to God, and in secret 
prayer implored the blessing of heaven on 
her absent and imperiled husband. 

One afternoon little Philip was playing on 
the porch, which was shaded by the climbing 
ivy and grape-vines, whilst his mother sat 
near by on a stone bench, lost in sad reverie 
and looking out upon the sea, whose azure 
mirror blended with the sky in the distant 


A GRECIAN FAMILY. 1/ 

horizon. The noble boy, with something of 
the spirit of his father, was playing battle, re- 
presenting Grecian and Turkish warriors with 
wooden and metal figures, and placing them 
opposite each other in battle array, bravely 
bombarding them with small iron balls. It 
was not long before all the Turks were thrown 
down, whilst a large part of the Greeks stood 
upright, although their number was compar- 
atively small. “ There ! you see it, mother,” 
cried the boy, with sparkling eyes. “ So 
it will happen to all the Turks as it did to 
these, even if they were ever so many. 
Look, mother! my Grecians have won and 
cut off the heads of all the enemy! Thus 
father is doing, is he not, mother ? ” 

“ God grant that he may help to win the 
victory in this difficult contest, my dear 
child,” the mother replied, and sadly smiled. 
** Alas ! it is a long time since we heard of 

him, and the news was not favorable. The 
2 * B 


8 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


superior force against which he and our peo- 
ple have to struggle is too great.” 

“ What of that, mother? ” replied the cour- 
ageous lad. “ You have often told me that 
God would aid them and help the just cause 
to win the victory. Don’t be sad, mother. 
You will see that the Turks shall all be 
chased away, and then Ali will not come 
again and take away my finest playthings 
and my pony.” 

Which Ali, my child?” inquired the 
mother, who had hardly listened to the prat- 
tle of little Philip. 

“ Well, Ali Rudschuck, the son of the 
Kapudan Pasha,” returned the little one. 
“Do you not remember? — he was herewith 
his father last year. An ugly boy. So wild 
and ill-bred. Everything that pleased him 
he wished to have and keep. He was wel- 
come to take all else, if he had only left me 
my little pony. But, never mind! when I 


A GRECIAN FAMILY. I9 

have grown big, I will take my sword and go 
to war against him, and win everything back 
he has taken from me. Yes, yes, mother, I 
will do it ! ” 

“ Little simpleton ! ” said the mother, softly, 
stroking with her hand the curly black hair 
of the boy, which hung in ringlets and shaded 
his white brow — “ little simpleton, when you 
are grown up your pony will have long 
been dead, and you would not make much of 
it even if it were living. Only content your- 
self. If your father returns safely from the 
war, then you shall have another pony, a 
much nicer one.” 

‘‘A gray one, dear mamma! it will be a 
gray, won’t it ? ” cried the lively boy, highly 
rejoiced and clapping his hands. “I have 
always wished for a gray pony. The pasha 
rides one too, and then I can be as grand 
as he.” 

“ Yes, my child, yes,” answered the mother. 


20 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


and turning her gaze, which until now had 
been fixed thoughtfully on the sea, with evi- 
dent interest toward the mountains, which 
were enveloped in a bluish mist. 

“ Listen, Philip ! do you hear anything ? ” 
she continued. It seems to me as if some- 
thing was going on in the mountains.” 

“Yes, mother,” said the boy, who instantly 
forgot his horse, “ yes, I hear distinctly ; they 
are shooting there. Perhaps it is a battle.” 

“ Alas, alas ! so near us ; that would be 
terrible!” cried the mother, and suddenly 
her tender, beautiful countenance was pale 
with terror. “Philip, if it is your father 
who fights there ! But that cannot be ! No, 
that cannot be ! ” 

“ And why not, mother ? ” asked the boy. 
“Father, if he were there, would certainly 
fight bravely.” 

“Yes, yes, but that is not what I fear, my 
son ! ” said the mother. “ If the enemy are 


A GRECIAN FAMILY. 


21 


really so near, all must be lost — the Turks 
must have won and pressed our army back ! 

0 God, have mercy and protect us from 
this most terrible fate ! Pray, my child, pray 
that the Lord may grant victory to your 
father! Down, down upon your knees and 
lift your hands and heart to Heaven I ” 

I would rather fight and shoot at my 
father’s side,” replied Philip. “ Ah ! why am 

1 yet so little and weak that I cannot go to 
war I Listen, mother 1 The shooting is be- 
coming louder 1 ” 

“Silence, my child! Be still!” said the 
mother. “ Perhaps we are deceiving our- 
selves — perhaps it is only a storm in the 
gorges of Mount Psilorati, and we mistake 
the rolling of thunder for the firing of arms ! 
Yes, yes, that is likely — it must be so ! It 
would indeed be too startling if it were other- 
wise ! Courage, my child, courage ! The 
danger is certainly not so nigh as it seems.” 


22 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


Little Philip shook his head, stepped from 
the colonnade into the open place and looked 
with his sharp, clear eyes toward the distant 
mountains, searching every gorge, vale and 
cliff, and listening intently. - 

“ No, mother, no,” said he, “ I certainly do 
not deceive myself! That is not thunder, it 
is the shooting of the long guns of our friends. 
I have often heard them shoot. No, it is not 
thunder. Thunder sounds quite differently. 
But why are you afraid? If the Turks are 
there, then father is there also and his friends, 
and we Greeks shoot much better than the 
Turks. They will soon flee, you’ll see. 
Look there 1 now we can see the smoke I 
There it curls up in blue cloudlets. Do you 
see it, mother ? ” 

“ Oh, my child, yes, I see it — I believe I 
see it I ” tremblingly answered the agitated 
woman. “ Quick, Philip! let us go in and get 
the spy-glass which father left here. We will 


A GRECIAN FAMILY. 23 

then be able the better to distinguish whether 
that blue mist is only a fleecy cloud or real 
smoke. Quick, my lad ! ” 

Both hastened into the house, opened a 
window and gazed intently into the distance. 
With hopeless looks the mother soon let the 
spy-glass drop from her trembling hands. 
There was no longer any doubt. Greeks and 
Turks were engaged in terrible combat, press- 
ing each other here and there in the vales, on 
the cliffs, on precipices and into the woods. 
She was even able to see a few forms and the 
smoke of the powder ascending from the 
guns. 

** O my God, mercy ! mercy for our side, 
mercy on my husband ! ” she prayed, falling 
on her knees and raising her trembling hands 
to heaven, whilst Philip knelt beside her and 
lisped a little prayer. » 

Peace in some degree now returned to the 
heart of the poor frightened woman ; but the 


24 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


continuous shooting, which seemed at times 
to approach and again to recede, revived her 
alarm and filled her anew with terror. The 
crash of the shooting seemed gradually to 
grow weaker, and as the sun set it ceased 
altogether. Now and then, at long intervals, 
a gun was heard, and then all became silent. 
Night came on and darkness covered the 
forests and mountains, which were but feebly 
lighted by the silver crescent of the moon. 

“ It is all over,” said Philip, throwing his 
arms around the tenderly loved mother, who 
was filled with fearful presentiments. Be 
calm and fear no more. Our enemies are 
certainly put to flight, and father is pursuing 
them with his soldiers.” 

“Heaven grant it!” replied Helen, sighing. 
“ I cannot yet believe in such good fortune. 
But whatever the issue of the struggle may 
have been, we must arm ourselves with pa- 
tience and bear with resignation whatever the 


A GRECIAN FAMILY. 25 

Lord lays upon us. Oh may the burden not 
be too heavy! May God spare you, poor, 
weak child, and send an angel for your pro- 
tection I You are still so young and innocent 
God will surely have mercy on you ! ” 

Her whispers died away in low weeping, 
and she pressed more closely to her boy, who 
buried his head in the bosom of his mother. 
Thus they sat silently by each other in fearful 
anxiety about the result of the battle, on 
which without doubt their fortune depended. 
Alas ! they were not long left in uncertainty. 
The moment was at hand which revealed 
their fate, which was more terrible even than 
the most gloomy forebodings of the wretched 
mother. 



3 



CHAPTER* II. 

THE ATTACK. 

HE sun was nearing the western hori- 



zon, when a small troop of Greek war- 
riors in hasty flight were seeking to reach a 
dark mountain gorge, covered with thick 
woods, and which seemed to promise a place 
of refuge and safety. Close behind them 
sounded the battle-cry of the Turkish troops 
and the discharge of guns. Notwithstand- 
ing the haste with which they retreated, 
they halted from time to time, turned quickly 
about, and replied to the fire of the enemy 
with such a shower of bullets as greatly di- 
minished the ardor of their pursuers. At 
every volley they halted and hesitated a few 


26 


THE ATTACK. 


27 


moments, of which the fugitives took advan- 
tage by charging anew with a deadly load 
their long guns, which were adorned with 
gold and silver. Then they again hastened 
forward and gained a slight start, which kept 
on increasing the nearer they approached the 
defensive thicket of the woods. The Allah 
cry sounded from a greater distance, and 
when the Greeks, close to the edge of the 
forest, which they had fortunately reached, 
fired their guns for the last time, everything 
became quiet, and the fugitives saw clearly 
that the Turks had no desire to continue the 
wild chase, but turned their backs and were 
slowly departing. 

“ They are going, and we are saved ! ” said 
one of the Greeks, who seemed to be their 
leader. “ The battle is lost, but life and free- 
dom at least remain. Friends, brethren, com- 
rades, the drama is ended ! Superiority of 
numbers has oppressed us, and treason has 


28 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


strangled our nascent liberty. Our sun sets 
as yonder sun. In Candia there is nothing 
more for us to hope. But do not despair. 
God will not forsake the righteous cause. 
There are yet other places where our brethren 
are sighing for Christ and for freedom from 
the Turkish yoke. Go hence ! To Morea ! 
There will we meet each other again, for now 
we must separate in order to escape. Scatter 
yourselves in the forests, in the mountains, 
till you find a chance for flight. You will 
probably not be obliged to wait long, for the 
ships of our brethren will take us up with joy. 
And now farewell ! We will meet again in 
Morea!” 

“ Do not leave us, brave Messaros, do 
not leave us I ” cried the little troop, which 
pressed closely round their leader and cov- 
ered his hands, his clothes and his feet with 
kisses. “We will stand faithfully by you, 
like true men, shoulder to shoulder, and 


THE ATTACK. 2g 

if we cannot live together, then will we die 
together ! ” 

** No, my brethren, no ; you shall live and 
struggle where there is something better to 
hope for than here,” replied Messaros. “ Go, 
my friends ! Follow my advice, I beg you ! 
Here your death will profit no one, but in 
Morea, if die you must, then you die for our 
most sacred possessions. After placing my 
wife and child in safety, I will also leave my 
home in order to struggle there. Go, and 
be careful of your safety. Consider ! we need 
valiant men to break the yoke of the Turks 
and to save our holy religion. It is my last 
command. Go ! ” 

The brave men and youths resisted the 
charge of their heroic leader no longer. For 
the last time they shook Messaros’ hand, and 
scattered in the darkness of the forest. Lean- 
ing on his trusty weapon, Messaros looked 
silently and sorrowfully after them till the 


30 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

last one had disappeared in the shade of the 
trees. 

“ It is over!” he murmured. “Candia can- 
not be saved ! Well, we will flee with wife 
and child. It is God’s will that we should be 
defeated here, but in another field he will 
grant us the victory. Poor and wounded, I 
forsake home. Let that go I One thing at 
least remains — confidence in God. This is 
treasure, the most splendid wealth.” 

Throwing his gun over his shoulder, he 
turned in the direction of his house. But 
now, after the subsidence of the excitement 
of the conflict, he first began to feel his ex- 
haustion from the long endurance and loss of 
blood, and it was with difficulty he could 
drag himself along. His pale countenance 
was blackened with powder, and the blood 
from his bleeding brow, as it trickled down, 
soiled his gay uniform with crimson stains. 
But he did not allow himself time to bind up 


THE ATTACK. 3I 

the wounds and stop the flow of blood, for he 
was urged impulsively onward to save his 
wife and child. This very night he must 
reach his home and flee with his family. To- 
morrow, perhaps, would be too late. He well 
knew the Turks — how in the flush of victory 
they would rush with violence against the 
conquered ; he knew that no one would find 
mercy at their hands. He must save his 
precious wife and beloved boy. All else — 
house, plantations — might be laid in desola- 
tion, if only his family were saved. He 
hastened to place in safety Helen and Philip, 
his most precious jewels. 

Thus he staggered forward leaning on his 
gun, which to-day in battle had rendered him 
such faithful service. He knew accurately 
every turn in the road, so that he did not 
even need the feeble light of the moon to 
keep him in the right path. From time to 
time he had to stop from exhaustion, and by 


32 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

a few moments’ rest recover his wasted 
strength; then, like a deer pursued by the 
hunter, he paused to listen if perchance the 
enemy might be on his track. But all was 
still. Nothing was heard in the dark soli- 
tude but the night-wind among the rustling 
leaves and the soft murmurs of the running 
brook. 

“ They slumber ! ” muttered Messaros. 
“ They also are exhausted by the long con- 
flict, and I shall be in time. The cave on the 
sea-coast will aflbrd us a safe refuge, and a 
ship will soon come and take us over to 
Morea. Hence, hence ! Hours fly, and the 
moment presses on ! They will be there as 
early as possible to-morrow to plunder the 
house of the wealthy Messaros, to share his 
property and to destroy what they cannot 
bear away with the spoils. Let them ! They 
may rob me of everything, if I can only keep 
my dear wife and beloved child.” 


THE ATTACK. 33 

He staggered on and on, till about mid- 
night he stood before his house utterly ex- 
hausted. He was hardly strong enough to 
knock at the door or raise his voice to a 
feeble call. 

“ Helen ! Helen ! open ! ? he groaned. 

Danger is nigh, and we must flee ! ” 

A low answer from within and hurried 
steps were heard, then the door was opened, 
and the next moment the faithful wife was in 
the arms of her husband. 

Messaros, you are wounded ! Ah me ! ” 
she cried. 

“Yes, wounded and in flight,” answered 
Messaros. “Although I am worn and ex- 
hausted, yet we must' not tarry here a mo- 
ment. We are defeated, and the persecutors 
press at our heels. Hasten, my wife ! 
Snatch your valuables which lie at hand, 
waken Philip, and follow me. We must flee 

as though the avenger of death was after us, 
C 


34 the GREEK SLAVE. 

and not a moment must be lost, or we may 
be ruined.” 

Pale and alarmed, Helen heard these words. 
Her worst presentiments were fulfilled ; all 
was lost, and the last hope was in flight. She 
trembled with fear and pain, but she soon 
collected herself, and with Christian fortitude 
met the fearful crisis ; she rose from her mo- 
mentary despondency, and soon regained her 
self-possession and peaceful confidence. 

“ Everything shall be done as you say, 
Messaros,” she replied, with a firm and com- 
posed voice. “ But you must first rest a few 
minutes and take a little refreshment. Sit 
down ; I will bring bread and wine, and 
whilst you are enjoying the repast, I will care 
for the other things.” 

“ No, no, we must flee ; I will drag myself 
hence,” replied Messaros. “ If I cannot, 
then do you escape with the boy, without 
pie. You two at least must be saved; as to 


THE ATTACK. 


35 


myself, God’s will be done ! Away, away ! 
The enemy may even now be at hand ! Con- 
ceal yourselves in the shell-cave on the 
strand. There no enemy will look for you, 
but a ship will come to take you up. Flee ! 
I command it.” 

“ Messaros, we will not leave the house 
without you,” replied Helen, firmly. “ In 
misfortune my place is at your side as well 
as in prosperity. But do not fear ; the enemy 
are not yet so near, and we will escape 
together.” 

Messaros did not reply, for his strength 
utterly forsook him, and fainting, he sank 
down on a divan in the hall in a condition 
of stupor. The tofaika dropped from his 
powerless hands. Helen looked upon him 
with the tenderest sympathy, brushed the 
tangled hair from his brow, and pressed a 
kiss on the pale and blood-stained forehead. 
“ God protect you and us !” she sighed, and 


36 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

then quickly hurried away to get wine and 
food, and also linen to bind up the wounds. 
In a short time she returned, and soon re- 
stored him to consciousness. He raised him- 
self and looked around wildly. 

O God, are you still here ?” he faintly 
murmured. ‘‘ Flee ! flee ! I am now strong 
enough to follow you. Bring the boy, and 
let us hasten !” 

Helen delayed no longer. She hurried up 
the stairs into the upper story of the house 
and roused the boy, who had fallen asleep 
upon the lounge. He rose quickly. A few 
words explained to him what had transpired 
while he was asleep, and he was delighted to 
hear of the return of his beloved father. 
Whilst his mother was gathering her most 
precious jewels and other valuables, with the 
utmost haste he quickly ran down the stairs 
and threw himself into the arms of his father, 
who pressed him to his bosom with a smile 


THE ATTACK. 3/ 

at once sad and full of tenderness. Imme- 
diately after came the mother, and Messaros 
urged their instant departure. He arose with 
difficulty, and in order to advance was obliged 
to lean on the arm of his wife. Even thus he 
was able to proceed only a few steps, for his 
strength was utterly exhausted. 

“ Flee, I pray you !” said he. “ Flee, and 
leave me to my fate. I will willingly die if I 
know that you are safe.” 

Helen, instead of answering, caught her 
husband in her arms and bore him down 
almost the entire declivity. 

“ Now support yourself firmly on me ; I 
am strong enough to help you forward,” said 
she, determinedly. The cave is not far dis- 
tant, and we can reach it. If not, we will die 
together ! No one shall say that the wife of 
Messaros had cowardly forsaken, in time of 
need, the father of her child ! Never, never 
shall we separate !” 

4 


38 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

‘^Certainly, father, never!” said little Philip. 

I would rather have the Turks kill me than 
that I should leave your side.” 

Thus pressed, Messaros was obliged to 
yield, and with difficulty dragged himself a 
few steps farther. The fugitives were ap- 
proaching the entrance to the garden, and 
had almost reached it, when suddenly a wild 
clamor sounded from the gate, and imme- 
diately it was thundered against with the 
butts of the guns. In breathless terror Mes- 
saros and his family stood as if spell-bound. 
The next instant the weak gate was broken 
down, and a small troop of Turks plunged 
into the garden with frantic shouts. 

“Too late! too late!” sighed Messaros, 
with heavy heart. “We are all lost! O 
my God! my God! defend the mother and 
her child! Helen, quick! Hasten into the 
thicket! You will be safe there for the time 
at least, for the night is dark and the moon- 


THE ATTACK. 


39 


light is faint. Leave me at once; you and 
the boy may yet save yourselves ! Go, 
Philip, and take your mother with you. As 
soon as they have pressed into the house you 
can escape. Hasten, quick ; hasten and leave 
me!” 

“ No,” answered the lad. “ I will not go 
a step from your side 1” 

Helen was silent; but, being quickly re- 
solved, she took hold of her husband and 
placed him on her weak shoulders and carried 
him as fast as she was able to the thicket 
near by. Philip followed her. Like shad- 
ows they glided over the soft sod with noise- 
less steps. They fortunately reached the 
thicket without being observed by the Turks, 
who entered the deserted house with raging 
clamor. As they found no one on whom 
they could exercise their brutal cruelty, they 
ravaged and destroyed what they could not 
or would not take with them, and then threw 


40 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

a firebrand into the house which had seen so 
many happy days. The roof was soon in 
flames, and like a giant torch illuminated the 
region far and wide. By the light of the fire 
the Turks discovered the unfortunate fugi- 
tives, who, indeed, had profited by the con- 
fusion to slip away, but, alas ! too slowly. A 
wild cry of triumph proclaimed their discov- 
ery. Once more Messaros implored his wife 
and son to save themselves and leave him to 
his fate, but Helen and Philip could not be 
persuaded to leave him, and were deaf to all 
his entreaties. The Turks hastened to the 
place, surrounded the unfortunates, struck to 
the ground the father, who had spread his 
arms protectingly over his beloved ones, and 
finally dragged the prisoners back to the 
burning house in order to decide their doom. 
The sentence was soon passed. It was : 

Sell them as slaves in the market at Canea.” 



CHAPTER III. 

THE SEPARATION AT THE SLAVE MART. 


Behold ^ I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands?'* 



HE slave market at Canea had become 


well known since the stalwart forms of 
the captive Greeks were exposed for sale. 
On set days buyers assembled from all parts 
of Turkey, who examined the unfortunate 
Christians like cattle, and bought them as 
such from the slave-dealers. On that day, 
too, when Messaros, with wife and child, was 
offered for sale, the higgling multitude pressed 
around, measuring with practiced eyes the 
forms of the prisoners, and estimating them 
according to their bodily ability. 

The unhappy family of Messaros awaited 

4 -» • 41 



42 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

the decision of their fate in deep silence and 
with hearts full of sorrow. Alas ! they had 
but little to hope. There was but one wish 
— the last — for whose fulfillment they earn- 
estly prayed to God : it was that they might 
not be separated, but that a purchaser might 
be found who would buy all three as his 
property. If only this could be realized, all 
else would be easy. They had already re- 
signed themselves to suffer and endure future 
wrongs, and they longed only for this one 
boon, that they might suffer and endure /<?- 
gether. It was sad and heartrending to see 
the little group stand there, close together, 
with hands firmly entwined, awaiting with 
unutterable anguish the climax of their des- 
tiny. Alas ! grief had already left her sad 
traces upon the countenances of the unhappy 
family. Messaros, whose wounds had been 
healed, stood*pale and haggard ; his trembling 
wife pressed near him, and at their feet cow- 


SEPARATION AT THE SLAVE MART. 43 

ered little Philip, whose eyes — at other times 
so clear and sparkling — were now red and 
inflamed from the many tears that he had 
shed in these last few days — days so fraught 
with evil to him and to them all. 

The buyers came and went, examining with 
indifferent looks the poor captives, whose 
hearts were heavy with sorrow. As often as 
one appeared, Messaros trembled, thinking 
that the moment of lasting separation had 
come, and breathed freely again when the 
purchaser, with contemptuous look, turned 
his back and showed signs of rejecting the 
group of sufferers. What matter was it to 
him that the Turk despised him because his 
body was bent, his limbs emaciated and his 
look languid? If he had been as strong, 
courageous and powerful as when he took up 
arms against the oppressors of his people, a 
buyer would have long since been found, and 
perhaps he would have been torn from the 


I 


44 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

arms of his family. Therefore he blessed 
God for his weakness, and feigned himself 
weaker and more miserable than he really 
was, in order that he might postpone as long 
as possible the bitter moment of the threat- 
ened farewell. 

Alas ! this moment of sorrow must finally 
come, and it was approaching fast. A Turk- 
ish merchant pressed through the crowd of 
the market, stopped before the table on which 
Messaros and his family were offered and ex- 
hibited only as lifeless merchandise, and ob- 
served Messaros a few minutes with cold and 
searching glances. Then he stepped nearer, 
touched his arms and legs, and tested in 
many ways the suppleness of his joints. He 
now inquired the price of the slave, and 
laughed scornfully when a tolerably high 
price was named. 

“ The boy is not worth half that,” said he. 

Sick, weakly, covered with wounds as he is, 


SEPARATION AT THE SLAVE MART. 4$ 

he may be dead in a few weeks. It is a ven- 
ture, at any rate, to purchase him.” 

“ Pshaw!” answered the slave-dealer. “Do 
but observe him fully. He is yet in the 
bloom of life, and with proper nursing he 
will soon be perfectly restored. His limbs 
are powerful, his muscles like iron, his bones 
like steel, his breast is broad as a shield ; in 
a few weeks he will not be dead, but worth 
twice as much as I ask you. Do not think 
long, friend Aga, but purchase the slave. 
You will not find a better in the market from 
one end to the other.” 

The Turk shook his head disdainfully and 
turned away, but the slave-dealer held him 
fast by the arm. 

“ Take the entire family, Aga,” said he. “ I 
will sell them to you at a ridiculously low 
price. The woman will render you good ser- 
vice, for she is strong and healthy, useful for 
every kind of , house or garden work. By 


46 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

Allah, you will never rue the bargain ! For 
fifty piasters more the man, wife and child shall 
be your property. Do not deliberate, strike the 
bargain ; you will never make a better trade.” 

The Turk hesitated, stood looking at Mes- 
saros, then examining him, and also noticed 
the unhappy Helen, but did not seem to see 
the boy at all, who was weeping and nestling 
against his mother, and hiding his pale little 
face in the folds of her garment. 

“ Come on,” said he ; “I will give you 
twenty-five piasters more for the man and 
woman, but without the boy. What can I do 
with the child? I cannot use him. Away 
with him ! Why do you deliberate ? It is 
my last offer !” 

Helen awaited the answer of the slave- 
dealer with a deadly fear, trembling in all 
her limbs, and pressed her son — her beloved 
child — to her breast with a look so full of 
sorrow and astonishment that it would have 


SEPARATION AT THE SLAVE MART. 47 

touched with pity the heart of a tiger. Mes- 
saros likewise awaited the dreadful decision 
with nervous suspense, kneeled at the side of 
his wife, and embraced her and his boy so 
firmly, so eagerly, as if he wished never to 
let go, as if he would hold them to his heart 
for ever. His countenance, indeed, was pale 
and his breathing heavy, whilst his gaze was 
fixed on the lips of the slave-dealer, on whose 
decision his happiness or misery depended. 
Alas ! he knew now of no better fortune than 
this only, at least not to be parted from those 
whom he loved so tenderly and with all the 
strength of his heart. 

Meanwhile, what did the Turk care for the 
deadly fear of the mother or the torture of 
the father? He saw their calamity, their 
despair, but his heart was without a touch of 
pity or sympathy. It made no difference to 
him if the hearts of the miserable captives 
were torn apart and trodden upon, if he could 


48 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

only extort a few more piasters from the pur- 
chaser. 

“ No, indeed !” said he. ** Fifty piasters 
more, and the three are yours. I will not 
take a para less ! They are worth twice that, 
and if you do not buy them, it is likely some 
one else will.” 

“ But what shall I do with the child ? ” re- 
plied the purchaser, full of vexation ; ” he will 
only be a burden ! Listen to my last offer — 
forty piasters more, without the boy ! Will 
you take it or not ? ” 

Oh have compassion, my lord ! ” now 
cried the unhappy mother as she imploringly 
stretched her trembling hands toward the 
hard purchaser. ‘‘You are rich. Do give 
the ten piasters more, and buy the boy along 
with us. Do not part us. Do not tear 
asunder our hearts. Oh, dear sir, it will not 
be your loss should you give the small sum. 
We will work twice as diligently if you will 


SEPARATION AT THE SLAVE MART. 49 

have pity on our child. Gratitude will in- 
crease our strength fourfold. Pity a sorrow- 
ing mother, an unfortunate father, a weak, 
helpless child. Where shall we find pity if 
not at your hands ? Oh, mercy, mercy upon 
us and our child ! ” 

The unfeeling purchaser cast a cold, dark 
and threatening look on the poor mother, and 
then carelessly turned away without even 
deigning to give her an answer. 

“ Make up your mind quickly,” he said to 
the slave-dealer ; “ forty piasters more for the 
two without the boy, and not a para more. 
Will you take it ? ” 

Now Messaros also arose, and before the 
slave-seller could answer, he threw himself at 
the feet of the cruel purchaser and embraced 
his knees. 

‘‘ Sir, have pity on an unfortunate family ! ” 
he exclaimed in tones of the deepest pain. 

What are ten piasters to you ? And what 
5 D 


50 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


happiness you can purchase with them for us ! 
Look at my arms and hands ; it is true they 
are just now weak from wounds and misery, 
but they will soon become strong, and you 
shall not be able to boast of a truer and more 
diligent slave than I will be to you if you 
will have pity on us and our child, and not 
tear our only and beloved one from our 
hearts. I will work the skin off my hands, 
and let my fingers bleed, and the sweat of my 
brow shall enrich your fields, if only you will 
not part my boy, my Philip, from me and his 
mother. What the boy will cost you our 
work shall repay. He will soon become 
large and strong, and be a faithful slave to 
you. We will instill into him gratitude and 
love for his benefactor, and we will pray the 
Lord of the world to bless you. Oh have 
pity on us ! ” 

The Turk replied by kicking the panting 
breast of Messaros, who rolled over in the 


/■ 


SEPARATION AT THE SLAVE MART. 5I 

dust The Turk again asked the slave-dealer : 
“Will you take it or not? forty piasters 
more ! decide quickly, for the whining of 
these Christian dogs is becoming a bore to 
me. 

Before the slave-dealer could answer, Mes- 
saros rose up once more and threw himself 
again at the feet of the cruel Turk. 

“ Hear me, hear me ! ” he cried in tones of 
despair. “ If you buy us without the boy, 
ruin will come upon you and God’s curse 
will rest upon your head. Grief, care and 
longing for our child will kill me and my 
wife, and you will have thrown away your 
gold for nothing.” 

“ Christian dog ! ” roared the Turk, as he 
again kicked the despairing father from him ; 
“ if you utter another word,'^I will stab you 
with this poniard. The lash and hunger will 
no doubt drive away your care for the boy. 
Do not pollute me with your touch. Away 


52 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

now ! And say, you fellow, will you take the 
forty piasters or not ? ” 

“ But what shall I do with the child ?” in- 
quired the slave-dealer. 

“ For all I care, throw the cub into the 
sea or kill him !” answered the Turk. ^‘What 
do I care about him ? Speak out, or I will 
go and look elsewhere for what I seek ! 
There is no scarcity of slaves here.” 

“ Well, take the two,” said the slave-dealer, 
when he perceived that the purchaser had 
resolved to adhere to his offer and conditions. 
“ Take them, and whoever likes may take the 
young dog !” 

A piteous, heartrending cry rang through 
the market when this barbarous answer was 
made by the slave-dealer. It was wrung 
from the heart of the miserable mother, who, 
pressing her boy — her sweet, loved and only 
child — to her heart, sank pale and fainting to 
the ground. 


SEPARATION AT THE SLAVE MART. 53 

Messaros, likewise convulsed with unspeak- 
able anguish, kneeled beside her and wept 
bitter tears on her pale, cold face. Philip 
sobbed aloud and wrung his little hands in 
inconsolable dread. 

Now is the time !” whispered the Turk to 
the slave-dealer. Take the boy away while 
his mother is unconscious and his father is 
not observing him. If she were to awake 
and the boy were still here, there might be a 
tumult which would gather all the people in 
the market about us. As it is, there are 
gapers enough already about. Away with 
him quickly, or, by Allah, I will annul the 
bargain !” 

This threat, accompanied by a stern glance, 
and spoken in a firm, determined voice, 
alarmed the slave-dealer. He watched for a 
moment when Messaros, attending to his 
wife, was not observing him, and then, seizing 
the child with his strong hand, and lifting him 


54 the GREEK SLAVE. 

above his head, pitched him out into the crowd 
of inquisitive spectators whom the piercing 
cry of the mother had drawn together. The 
boy disappeared among the multitude. When 
the mother recovered her consciousness, she 
looked for him in vain. With a cry of agony 
she called, “ Philip ! Philip !” But no answer 
was made to her anxious and despairing call. 
Messaros tried to hasten away to hunt his 
child in the crowd, but a blow from the fist of 
the slave-dealer felled him to the ground. 
His new master beckoned some servants to 
him and ordered them to fetter the new 
slaves. Heavy chains were fastened around 
Messaros and his wife. 

Dumb in their unutterable misery, and 
having no power of will, they permitted every- 
thing to be done to them, and followed with- 
out resistance the guidance of the servants 
who were leading them from the market. 
They saw their boy, their beloved child, no 


r 

SEPARATION AT THE SLAVE MART. 55 

more. Pale and tearless they stepped through 
the unfeeling and mocking crowd. What 
of changes or sufferings was yet in store for 
them was no longer of any concern. The 
grief at the loss of little Philip was so in- 
describably great that every other pain, in 
comparison, did not seem worthy of a thought. 
Their hearts were crushed by this over- 
whelming sorrow. 

They were led out of the gate toward 
the port. Suddenly a stranger stepped up to 
Helen, the unhappy mother, seized her hand 
and said : “ Hope, hope, poor woman ! God 
has taken pity on your child and given some 
comfort for your sorrowing hearts. Your son 
shall be to me a child, and I will love him as 
a father. Be comforted, and suffer patiently. 
God will not forsake you, and you will again 
see that which is dearest on earth to you 

Helen, roused from the depth of her misery, 
looked up and beheld a mild, friendly face, 


56 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

whose eyes glistened with sympathy. A 
faint smile of joy passed over her pale and 
delicate features ; she wished to speak a few 
words to the man who had dropped a word 
of hope into their despairing hearts, but the 
slaves of the new master tore her away, and 
the stranger caught only the words : “ O 
merciful God, thanks — ” which escaped her 
quivering lips. A ship ready to sail took 
them in, and a few hours after they were far 
from their island home, far away from their 
child, at whose remembrance the mother’s 
heart trembled and her eyes were filled with 
tears. Messaros, equally sorrowful, tried in 
vain to console and lift her up. Their only 
consolation was in God, and the hope that 
something was in store for their son better 
than the sad lot of his poor and unhappy 
parents. 



CHAPTER IV. 


# 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 

“ But /, with all my care, will lean upon the Lordl'* 

ICHAEL SANTOS was the name of 
the man who had found and taken up 
little Philip, when he was torn, weeping and 
helpless, from the side of his parents and 
flung among the gaping crowd by the merci- 
less slave-dealer. He was a poor man, and 
could not boast of any property excepting a 
small hut in the outskirts of Canea, where he 
lived alone. He earned his scanty living by 
giving lessons in the elements of reading, 
writing and arithmetic to the children in the 
houses of the more wealthy Turks. As he 
received but small pay for his faithful ser- 

57 



58 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

vices, he was compelled to practice great 
economy in his living, and it was, therefore, 
no small sacrifice for him to take care of 
Philip. But that caused him little concern, 
for, poor as he was in earthly possessions, his 
heart was rich in all the graces of the religion 
of Christ. Michael Santos was a good and 
faithful Christian, full of love and mercy to- 
ward his fellow-beings. As he was obliged 
to witness on the slave mart, whither chance 
had led him that morning, how cruelly the 
parents of Philip were treated, his heart 
throbbed with deep and sincere sympathy, 
and for the first time in his life he wished 
himself rich as a sultan, that he might pur- 
chase the poor, unfortunate family from the 
slave-dealer and restore them to freedom. 
The sufferings of the mother and the pangs 
of the father he felt re-echoing in his soul ; 
and when little Philip flew through the air 
like a ball, he instinctively stretched out his 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 59 

arms, caught him, pressed him to his breast 
and whispered in his ear: “Be quiet, dear 
boy ! God has led me hither to-day that I 
might take you up and share my poverty 
with you. Be quiet; no further harm shall 
come upon you, and I will be to you a father ! 
Poor, unfortunate child, who could be so 
cruel as to abandon you !” 

With loving words he soothed the heart of 
the boy and bore him in his arms to his little, 
lowly cot. Here he put him in the care of a 
kind woman, in order to return to the market 
and hear further concerning the fate of the 
parents. Messaros and his wife were already 
taken away by their new master, and only 
after many inquiries did the brave Michael 
Santos learn that they had been dragged 
toward the harbor. As quickly as possible 
he hastened thither, and to his great joy and 
satisfaction arrived in time to speak a word 
of hope and comfort to the despairing mother. 


6o 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


As they were torn away from his presence, 
he inquired after the name of their master, 
and learned that it was Mustafa Kodosi, a 
merchant from Bagdad. The name he deter- 
mined to remember, with an undefined hope 
that it might be of service to him in the future, 
or at least some satisfaction to Philip. Sad 
and cast down because of the pitiable lot of 
the unfortunate family which was so cruelly 
separated, he returned to his cot and busied 
himself with little Philip, till the latter — 
although not entirely comforted, yet in some 
degree quieted — fell asleep in his arms. 

“ Slumber gently, dear boy,” he said, 
softly. “ In sleep you will forget your pain, 
and God and time will help to lighten your 
sorrows. Poor child, called so early to 
encounter the woes of life, may God 
strengthen your young heart to bear this 
burden of his providence! Sleep soundly, 
my boy; you are with a friend. As far as I 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 6l 


am concerned, you shall never miss a father’s 
heart while with me !” 

Gently as any mother he placed the slum- 
bering child in his own bed, and sitting beside 
him, and bending over the pale face still wet 
with tears, he prayed long and earnestly for 
his welfare. 

The impression which the rude and cruel 
behavior of the slave-dealer, as well as the 
harsh unrnercifulness of the purchaser toward 
his parents, had made upon Philip was so 
deep and painful that the boy recovered but 
slowly from it, although the good Michael 
Santos tried hard to make him forget the sad 
past. He did not succeed, and it was time 
alone, which softens every woe, that gradually 
exercised its beneficial influence over Philip. 
His pale cheeks grew red, his dull eyes 
sparkled again, and the tender, loving words 
of his good foster-father finally found their 

way into his heart. Philip became like other 
6 


62 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


boys of his age ; he found many playmates ; 
and Michael, when he thus beheld him in the 
circle of his companions, cheerful and happy, 
cherished the hope that the boy, if he had 
not forgotten, had at least learned to bear the 
loss of his parents. He never for an instant 
regretted that he had taken up the orphan 
and brought him to his hut. Philip repaid 
the kindness of his foster-father with heartfelt 
love and attachment, and hardly ever did 
Michael Santos have occasion to find fault 
with him. The boy was industrious, docile 
and obedient, and while he grew up to be a 
handsome youth, his mind and inner life de- 
veloped so happily that Santos took great 
pleasure in him, and blessed the hour in 
which the boy crossed his threshold. To be 
sure, both had to struggle at times against 
want, when the income of the honest Michael 
was scant and insufficient; but these small 
inconveniences they bore with such indiffer- 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 63 

ence that they only seemed to show the 
inner peace and contentment of the pair. 

From his fourteenth year, in which Philip 
was received into the Church by confirmation, 
he faithfully assisted his foster-father in his 
office, and lightened the burden of giving in- 
struction, in which he now assisted his benefac- 
tor by his diligence. The morning hours he 
spent in this way, but in the afternoons he was 
accustomed to be mostly out-doors, and ram- 
bled through the mountain gorges and valleys, 
gathering clams on the seashore and rare 
plants in the forest; yet never, or seldom, 
brought any booty home. Michael was grat- 
ified to see Philip busy himself in this man- 
ner, for thus he became fresh and strong like 
the tall palm trees in the mountain forests. 

Philip was also frequently engaged at the 
harbor ; assisted the sailors of incoming and 
outgoing ships in loading or unloading their 
freight, and took hold with such alacrity that 


64 the GREEK SLAVE. 

the ship captains and merchants were glad to 
employ him, and paid him more than other 
laborers and stevedores. Wonderful to re- 
late, Philip made a secret of this employment 
to his foster-father, and that he might not be 
detected by him in the harbor, he only worked 
on such days as he knew Santos would be 
busy in giving lessons till late in the evening. 
Michael neither knew anything about the 
money which Philip was thus earning, nor 
did he ever receive any of it. Philip did not 
allow it to be seen at all ; it disappeared, and 
no one besides himself knew where it was. 
The youth certainly did not spend it. His 
clothing was poor, although very tidy ; he had 
no pleasure in bright weapons or shining 
jewels, like his companions and playmates, 
and he never spent a para to give himself a 
pleasure, and yet he earned considerable by 
his work and gathering of rare plants, clams, 
etc., which he sold to merchants, sailors and 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 6$ 

others. What did he do with the money? 
Where did he deposit it? He spoke to no 
one about it, not even to his foster-father, 
although he kept no other secret from him. 

Philip was now seventeen years old. On 
the whole island of Candia no handsomer 
youth could be found. Those that knew him 
loved him, for he was not like many youths 
who blindly plunge into life and commit many 
errors either through indifference or folly. 
Philip was always gentle, friendly and agree- 
able to every one, and the only thing that his 
foster-father reproved him for was a quiet, 
sad sobriety which, in spite of the smile of 
his lips, never left his brow. 

When he was by himself, or imagined him- 
self so, this seriousness, which so little be- 
fitted his youth, passed into deep sadness, 
and several times did Michael Santos find 
him with tears in his eyes, of which Philip 

never wished to render any account. All the 
6 « £ 


66 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


inquiries which Michael made concerning his 
sadness he answered evasively, and so earn- 
estly assured his good foster-father that 
there was nothing the matter with him that 
Santos had to believe him and not press his 
questioning. 

It happened one day, as Philip was taking 
his accustomed ramble over the mountains, 
that, deep in the forests, far from all inhabited 
regions, he thought he heard a cry for help. 
Fearless and brave by nature, and trusting to 
his bodily strength, he did not reflect an in- 
stant, but hastened to the spot from which 
the cry seemed to come. He was unarmed, 
but on the way he snatched a stout branch of 
a tree and hastened into the thicket. As he 
approached he heard the ringing of sabres ; 
even a few shots were fired, and he could 
doubt no longer that some act of violence — 
perhaps robbery and murder — were going 
on, which, at a time when war and tyranny 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 6/ 

had brutalized the dispositions of men, were 
of frequent occurrence. After a few seconds, 
Philip came to an open place in the forest, 
and saw there three fierce-looking men 
against whom a handsome, richly-dressed 
youth, with his back against a tree, was still 
defending himself feebly and with much diffi- 
culty. It was he who had called for help, 
whilst he was bravely fighting against such 
fearful odds. At his side lay a man with 
a fearful wound in his forehead and apparently 
dead. He was probably the servant of the 
youth, for not far from the spot stood two 
splendidly-caparisoned horses, which un- 
doubtedly belonged to the party attacked. 

Philip in a moment comprehended the state 
of things, and was fully convinced that his 
suspicion of a murderous attack, with a view 
of robbing, was correct. Without consider- 
ing the larger number of the robbers or his 
own danger, he plunged forward and placed 


68 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


himself at the side of the youth, and with one 
blow of the heavy stick he dashed the most 
furious of the robbers to the ground. “ Cour- 
age!” he called out to the youth, who ap- 
peared to be of equal age with himself — 
courage I we will soon finish these rascals I” 
The youth uttered a cry of joy, and the 
consciousness that he now had a brave helper 
at his side appeared to inspire him with fresh 
courage and a new impulse to fight. He 
pressed forward as Philip with his club broke 
the sabre of the second bandit, and with a 
sudden blow knocked him down ; the third 
fled as fast as possible, and in a few seconds 
disappeared in the thicket near by. 

The two lads permitted the knave to run, 
and did not think of pursuit. The rescued 
youth cast himself on Philip’s breast, and 
pressed him to his heart with grateful love. 

“Friend! brother!” he cried; “you have 
saved my life from these shameless robbers, 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 69 

and, by Allah and my father’s beard, I will 
never forget it! Thanks for your faithful 
assistance. My father and I will know how 
to reward you for it 1” 

“What do you mean?” answered Philip, 
with a smile. “ Does that call for a reward 
which was only my duty ? I doubt not you 
would have done the same if I had been in 
your situation; therefore not a word more 
about it 1 Let us rather look after the 
wounded man, who I suppose is your ser- 
vant, and who seems badly hurt.” 

“Yes, yes, my poor Hassan 1” cried the 
youth, and knelt down beside the wounded 
man. “ Why, the faithful fellow is dead !” 

“ Patience,” replied Philip. “ True, indeed, 
it is a severe blow that cast him down, but it 
may not on that account be mortal. Let us 
see what can be done.” 

A hasty examination showed that the ser- 
vant was not dead, and after the earnest exer- 


70 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

tions of the young men he finally opened his 
eyes. 

My governor, you live !” he said, with a 
weak but glad tone. “Allah be thanked! 
Now I will cheerfully die I” 

“ No more about dying, my good Hassan,'’ 
replied the young stranger. “You will re- 
cover, and soon be strong enough to mount 
your horse again.” 

Hassan cast a timid and frightened glance 
about him, and said ; “ The robbers, master — 
where are they ?” 

“ Two lie slain at the root of that sycamore, 
and the third has escaped,” answered his 
master. “ Fear nothing I The banditti will 
not return. This is the friend who lent us 
his powerful arm.” 

“Thanks be to Allah!” said Hassan. 
“Your father will rejoice when he embraces 
you unharmed. The danger was terrible. 
Pray who are you, young man, that saved the 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. J\ 

son of the pasha out of the murderous hands 
of robbers?” 

Philip hesitated. ^ Was it indeed the son of 
the pasha whom he had assisted! But he 
soon recovered himself from the surprise, and 
answered modestly : “ I am your slave, sir I — 
a poor Greek orphan whom an honest, good 
man took to himself out of compassion, and 
brought up. My name is Philip Messaros.” 

“ Ah I you are a Greek, a Christian 1” ex- 
claimed the youth, in surprise, drawing back. 
*‘But no matter. You are good and valiant, 
and in spite of your faith we will remain 
friends. Give me your hand, Philip, and be 
my brother.” 

“ Oh, sir I” began Philip, crossing his arms 
over his breast after the Oriental fashion — 
“ sir, it will not become me to be your — ” 

Say nothing about become and sir!' 
quickly interrupted the youth. “Call me 
Achmet and brother 1 You have risked your 


72 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

life for my sake, and for that I can offer you 
nothing less than my friendship. Accom- 
pany me to my father. He loves me, and the 
deliverer of his son will be welcome. Do 
not refuse, Philip. My father will certainly 
desire to see you, and therefore it is best that 
you immediately follow me. Up, Hassan ! 
Do you feel strong enough to hold yourself 
on the horse ?” 

“Yes, my master,” replied the servant. 
“The blow of the bandit stunned me more 
than it really injured me.” 

“ Well, then, we will delay no longer,” said 
Achmet. Hassan was lifted into the saddle, 
and Achmet insisted upon Philip’s mounting 
the other horse. But he declined, giving as 
an excuse his inability to ride and the neces- 
sity of leading Hassan’s horse, since the 
wounded man would scarcely have the 
strength to guide it with the bridle. Achmet 
had to yield, and rode by the side of Philip, 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 73 

whilst the latter, carefully searching for the 
best road, led Hassan’s horse by the bridle. 

“ Whither shall I lead you ?” he inquired. 
“Your father’s residence, no doubt, is in the 
seaport town of Candia ?’’ 

“Yes, generally,’’ replied Achmet; “but 
for some days past we have occupied a coun- 
try residence near Canea, and I am surprised 
that you do not know it.’’ 

“ I learn little of the important events that 
transpire,’’ answered Philip. “ My foster- 
father is poor, and we have no time to visit 
the market to inquire after the news. But 
tell me how it happened that you fell into the 
hands of the robbers.’’ 

“ That is easily answered,’’ replied Achmet, 
pleasantly. “ I am fond of hunting, and to 
escape the tiresomeness of doing nothing at 
home, I rode with Hassan into the forests, 
and was looking for game. The report of our 

guns in all probability attracted the robbers, 
7 


74 the GREEK SLAVE. 

and just as we dismounted to breakfast they 
fell upon us, beat Hassan, who attacked them 
to protect me, and then pressed upon me, 
three against one. Then you arrived and 
became our deliverer; for certainly I would 
have been overcome by the scoundrels, and 
they would have killed Hassan and me if you 
had not come to our assistance. What a 
pity that you are a Christian, and not a fol- 
lower of the Prophet! My father would 
open your way to a glorious future, and we 
would never separate again. But, as it is, 
my father is a zealous Mussulman. Philip, if 
you would give up your faith and profess 
ours, by Allah, it would be no injury to you I” 
“ Never, never 1” replied Philip, gently but 
firmly. ‘‘ I would rather endure the worst 
evil than forsake Christ! Pardon me, Ach- 
met, but you yourself would despise me if 
I should be willing to become a renegade for 
temporal advantages. No, never, never 1” 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 75 

‘‘You are right, brother, and I do not 
blame you !” replied Achmet, warmly press- 
ing the hand of his young friend. “ I in- 
deed feel a person ought not deny that which 
he has owned to be true and right. Remain 
firm in your faith, and we will nevertheless 
continue friends.’^ 

The sun was low in the western horizon 
when Philip and the two horsemen arrived at 
the splendid country-seat in which the mighty 
pasha of Candia had for a season erected his 
seat of sovereignty. Achmet leaped from 
his horse, bade the servants who were hasten- 
ing to meet him take care of the wounded 
Hassan, took Philip by the hand and led him 
into the castle. In a splendidly-furnished 
apartment he requested him to tarry a while 
till he had informed his father of the day’s 
occurrences. Philip sat down on one of the 
costly divans which were placed along the 
walls of the room, leaned his head on his 


76 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

hand, and thoughtfully gazed on the marble 
fountain in the centre of the room, and the 
playful splashing of the waters, that filled the 
air with the most refreshing coolness. But 
his thoughts were not taken up with the 
magnificence of his surroundings, but reverted 
to an incident which for years had secretly 
occupied his heart. He was so absorbed in 
his thoughts that he did not hear the raising 
of the curtain as Achmet came in and ap- 
proached his friend with a smile of wonder. 

“ Philip,” said he as he gently laid his 
hand on the shoulder of the dreamer, “my 
father asks for you and wishes to speak to 
you. Follow me, my friend.” 

Philip quickly sprang up. Achmet led 
him through a number of splendid chambers, 
till at length he reached the one where his 
father was awaiting the young Greek. 

The pasha was alone. He reclined care- 
lessly on soft silken cushions and smoked his 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 77 

pipe, whose amber tip was set with costly 
and sparkling jewels. As Philip entered he 
looked kindly on him, who, according to 
Oriental custom, with arms crossed over his 
breast, bowed low before the mighty ruler of 
the island of Candia. The pasha observed 
him a few moments with a searching glance, 
and then said kindly: “You are welcome. 
Achmet has told me that he owes you his 
life, and, by the beard of the Prophet, that 
service shall be rewarded! Seat yourself 
beside me and narrate your past life. I will 
then see what can be done for you. Do not 
be afraid, but speak freely. I am the pasha 
and your friend.” 

Achmet led the hesitating Philip to the 
soft cushions, where he was constrained to be 
seated. Taking a seat by his side, and grasp- 
ing his hand, he whispered in his ear: “Speak 
freely! My father is well disposed toward 

you, as I have already told you.” 

7 ^ 


78 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


Philip raised his eye to the powerful and 
revered ruler without the shrinking timidity 
and embarrassment that, under the circum- 
stances, might have been expected. Pasha 
Ibrahim was a handsome, portly man, with a 
high brow, large, sparkling eyes, and a long, 
black beard, which waved down in heavy curls 
on his breast. One could easily imagine that 
those keen eyes might sparkle with rage and 
scorn, if these passions were called forth ; but 
now their expression was so kind and gentle 
that Philip looked up to the mighty ruler 
without fear or trepidation. 

“ Sir,” said he, modestly, “ I have done 
nothing remarkable, and your valiant son 
would likely have subdued the robbers with- 
out my help. . He fought bravely and skill- 
fully against superior force.” 

“ Did he ? Did my Achmet act thus ?” 
said the pasha, in a delighted tone. “ Yes, 
yes ; he is a young lion who will bear honor 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 79 

to his father ! But no matter ; you gave him 
timely aid, and without you who knows 
whether he would ever have returned alive ! 
You are a Greek, are you not? Who are 
your parents ?” 

An expression of such deep grief passed 
over the countenance of poor Philip at this 
question that the pasha at once noticed it 
and quickly added : “Ah, poor boy, you have 
no parents ; pardon me, that I reminded you 
of it!” 

“ No, sir, no !” answered Philip, in a sorrow- 
ful tone; “they still live, but they live in 
slavery, which, no doubt, is worse and more 
bitter than death I” 

“ How did that happen ?” asked the pasha, 
attentively. “ Tell me, my son.” 

Philip tried to compose himself and to sup- 
press his feelings of grief With wonderful 
accuracy he narrated the events of his youth, 
which had indelibly stamped themselves on 


8o 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


his young mind. He told of his being taken, 
with his parents, as prisoners ; of the horrible 
scene on the slave mart, and of Michael 
Santos, his honorable foster-father. The 
pasha listened to him with great thoughtful- 
ness and feeling. He asked : Have you, 
since that time, had no information concern- 
ing your parents ?” 

“ None !” replied Philip, sadly. 

“ Has nothing been done to get any word 
from them ?” 

“ Nothing ! ” said Philip. My foster- 
father is poor and could not do anything. I 
have no friends beside him, for the friends 
of my father have fled and left Candia for 
ever ; and for myself, what could I do for my 
unfortunate parents? I was compelled to 
endure and hope. Only when I grew older 
and stronger was I able to do anything. I 
tried to find ways and means to earn money. 
Like my foster-father, I imparted instruction 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 


8l 


in the houses of the wealthy Turks; I gath- 
ered clams, plants, insects and stones, and 
sold them ; I went as often as possible to the 
harbor, and was hired as a stevedore. By 
these means I earned a little money, and saved 
it for the future. I fasted and economized, 
and did not allow myself any enjoyment or 
pleasure which cost money ; for oh, sir, this 
money which I have earned and saved shall 
go for the ransom of my poor parents, who 
are pining in slavery under a hard master! 
My little treasure has grown from year to 
year, and not many more shall pass before I 
will have enough to buy back my parents and 
lead the dearly-loved ones back to their 
home I” 

Philip ended his narrative with tearful eyes. 
Achmet cast himself weeping on his breast, 
and even the proud, powerful pasha was un- 
able to resist the emotion which was soften- 
ing his heart. He cast a long and wondering 
F 


82 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


look upon the youth, and several tim^s 
stroked his long and wavy beard. “ By the 
soul of the Prophet and the beard of the ruler 
of the faithful !” he finally said, “ you are a 
good son and a brave youth. Pity that you 
are not a Mussulman! But no matter; if 
your parents are yet alive — and, by Allah, I 
hope they are I — ^they shall become free, and 
there shall be no lack of ransom money! 
Allah il Allah, what a good son ! By the 
beard of Mohammed, you deserve the privilege 
and joy, which Providence will give you, of 
leading your liberated parents back to their 
home. God is great and Mohammed is his 
Prophet! I am not mistaken when I hope 
that Allah has preserved them for your joy ! 
You will find them again, and you shall not 
want anything that the pasha of Candia can 
bestow. What an excellent son ! Thus 
should all children love their parents ! Speak, 
boy ! do you know where your parents were 


THE SON OF THE PASHA. 83 

conveyed after they were taken into the 
ship?” 

“ My good foster-father told me that they 
were taken to Bagdad,” replied Philip, whose 
heart trembled with joy at the promises and 
assurances of the powerful pasha. “Their 
master’s name is Mustafa Kodosi, a rich mer- 
chant I well remember his name, and shall 
never forget it. Indelibly has it been stamped 
on my memory. Waking and dreaming have 
I repeated it; waking and dreaming have I 
whispered this name, which is the bane of my 
whole life ! Oh, sir, if you wish to favor a 
child that loves his parents above everything, 
let your face be turned approvingly on me ! 
Ah, this is the only desire of my life: the 
freeing of my unfortunate parents ! If I had 
a thousand lives, I would cheerfully give them 
for their freedom !” 

“ Quiet, my boy, compose yourself,” said 
the pasha. “ If they are alive, they shall be 


84 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

free. My power extends far — to the gate of 
the ruler of the faithful — and, by Allah and the 
beard of the Prophet, I owe it to you that I 
use my power in your behalf! Leave me 
now, my son. I will consider how you can 
be best helped. I will have you called to- 
morrow ; then you shall hear what is possible. 
Allah be with you 1 You are in truth a good 
son, a loving child. Go, and be comforted; 
the pasha will remember you.” 



CHAPTER V. 


A POWERFUL PROTECTOR. 


“ Let the sighing of the prisoner come before Thee.^'' 

S Philip came out of the palace of the 



pasha, he was so carried away with his 
feelings of quiet ecstasy that he could not at 
first recall the conversation which passed be- 
tween Achmet and himself. But when he 
passed out into the open air, and somewhat 
recovered himself, he gave vent to his feelings 
in an exclamation of joy. He wept, and 
prayed, and laughed in turn, and hastened, 
as if on the wings of the wind, to his foster- 
father, the good Michael Santos. Sobbing, 
he threw himself on his breast, and was so 

overcome by the tumult of his feelings that 
8 85 



86 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


he could only mutter a few words, which 
rather confused the honest Santos as to the 
cause of this unusual excitement 

Philip, my son, compose yourself,” said 
Santos. “Whatever may have happened, 
you must trust the Lord, and in looking up 
to him learn to control your feelings. Be 
calm, my child, and relate to me in a few 
words what has so excited you.” 

“It is joy, my father!” exclaimed Philip, 
with sparkling eyes. “Something has hap- 
pened that gives me unspeakable happiness ! 
Michael, the faithful guardian of my child- 
hood, you too shall rejoice in my fortune 
and thank the Lord ; for know, I am to seek 
for my parents, break their chains, and lead 
them to their home free and happy I My 
God, my Saviour, where shall I find words to 
thank thee, and to proclaim my joy to all 
the world 1” 

Michael stared at his foster-son with won- 


A POWERFUL PROTECTOR. 8/ 

der. Years had passed without ever referring 
in their conversation to his parents, for 
Michael feared by any mention of them to 
sadden his foster-son, and Philip concealed 
his ardent love for them lest he should in- 
crease the cares of his foster-father by his 
grief and anxiety. But now the long-pent-up 
feeling found expression, and Philip no longer 
concealed what had been the secret aim and 
longing of his heart for years. 

“ You are dreaming, Philip,” said Michael, 
full of anxiety, as he began to suspect that 
something had happened to confuse his son’s 
mind, usually so clear and intelligent ; “ con- 
sider, my child, for how can this be possible ? 
Your poor parents, if they are still alive, are 
separated from you by land and sea. Where 
will you get money to travel to Bagdad and 
buy them out of bondage? You are poor, 
and I do not know any of our friends who 
are wealthy enough to assist you.” 


88 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


“ But the pasha, father !” exclaimed Philip-^ 
“ Pasha Ibrahim ! Is he not a powerful and 
wealthy man ? Is not his a strong will ? 
Does not his power extend far and near? 
And the pasha is my friend !” 

“ The pasha !” said Santos, surprised. 
“ How did you come to the pasha ? How is 
it that he has become your friend? — the 
friend of a poor Grecian youth — an unbe- 
liever ? Certainly something must have un- 
balanced your mind and bereft you of your 
senses ! Go, my child, lie down and rest. 
To-morrow I hope you will speak more sen- 
sibly.” 

Philip now appreciated the serious appre- 
hension of the good Santos, and sought to 
allay it by subduing the great excitement of 
his feelings. A little more composed, he went 
on to relate his meeting with Achmet, the 
son of the pasha, and the subsequent inter- 
view with the great ruler in his own palace. 


A POWERFUL PROTECTOR. 89 

Santos listened with deep but by no means 
pleasurable emotions, and when Philip ended 
his story, he sadly shook his head and fell 
into a silent and gloomy reverie. 

“ Do speak,” said Philip, “ and rejoice with 
me ! Do you not sympathize with me in the 
joy' I feel at the thought of seeing my dear 
parents again, and redeeming them from their 
miserable captivity ?” 

“ I can be neither glad nor rejoice,” replied 
Santos. “ I am rather filled with painful 
anxiety and sorrow. Oh, my son, have you 
really considered the dangers of the enter- 
prise which you propose so eagerly but 
blindly to undertake? You, a lonely youth, 
wish to encounter the perils of a long voy- 
age ! You, a mere lad, wish to traverse the 
vast desert, with the burning sun above you 
and the fearful simoon upon your path! 
You, a Christian — an unbeliever — wish to 
plunge yourself into the midst of the savage 


90 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

tribes of the desert, among the rapacious 
Bedouins, who do not spare even those of 
their own faith, and who treat Christians 
worse than dogs ! Woe, woe to you if you 
should fall into their hands ! Lasting, hor- 
rible slavery or a cruel death would be your 
lot ! No, my boy, you must not forsake me ! 
At least not until you are of age and able to 
endure the hardships of such a journey, and 
prudent enough to forecast and avoid its 
difficulties and dangers. Be quiet, my son ! 
You do not know what you are about to 
undertake. I honor your love to your 
parents, but I also know that you will not in 
this way save them, but destroy yourself with 
them. No, you cannot leave me! I also 
have a claim upon you, Philip I I also love 
you as a father, and the anxiety for your wel- 
fare would destroy me, if you should forsake 
me to gratify a longing which could not bene- 
fit your parents and would injure you. Stay 


A POWERFUL PROTECTOR. 9I 

with me, my son ! If the pasha desires to do 
anything for you, it will be done without such 
an exposure of yourself to danger! I will 
never consent to your leaving me 1” 

My father,” replied Philip, softly yet 
firmly, seizing the hand of Michael and 
pressing it warmly — “my father, I must 
leave you, and I know you will give me your 
blessing to accompany me on the far and 
dangerous journey I What, dear father, you 
who have done everything for me, fulfilled 
my every wish, will you seek to hinder the 
accomplishment of that which is the most 
cherished hope of my life ? Whatever dan- 
gers may threaten, God will be with me and 
never forsake me. What are the perils of the 
sea and the desert, when the Almighty covers 
me with his omnipotent hand ? Trusting in 
him, hoping in him alone, I will begin my 
pilgrimage, and he will guide my feet and 
lead me to a happy issue. Yes, my father. 


92 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

we shall see each other again, and our hearts 
will unite in grateful praise to Him who is 
our help and Saviour.” 

Yes, my child, but still it cannot be,” re- 
turned Santos, with faltering voice. “ You 
are too young. Wait a few years at least, 
and let us first make inquiries whether your 
parents are yet living. Are you certain that 
they were strong enough to endure the suffer- 
ings of slavery? The chain of bondage is 
heavy, my son.” 

*‘Just on that account I dare not linger,” 
rejoined the ardent youth. “Every minute 
of delay would burn like fire in my soul and 
poison every drop of blood in my veins. 
What ! The means offered me to rescue my 
poor parents from their miserable captivity, 
and I to doubt and hesitate for one moment 
to enter upon the path which has been opened 
to me! Oh, father, if every hour should 
threaten me with mortal danger, I would not 


A POWERFUL PROTECTOR. 93 

shrink, but go forward trusting in the Lord ! 
If your worst fears should be realized, if 
I should die in the attempt to rescue my 
beloved parents, I would die with the con- 
sciousness that I have done my duty, which 
is more to me than this fleeting life. Let me 
depart, my father, and give me your blessing. 
For years I have toiled, planned and worked 
for the means to ransom my father and my 
mother, and now, when Heaven itself opens 
the door of deliverance, shall I refuse to 
enter ? No, no, you will not refuse me your 
consent and your blessing !” 

“ Well, depart in peace,” said Michael San- 
tos, who could no longer resist. “ Go, and 
God be with you! Your feeling is a holy 
and heavenly impulse, and I yield to its in- 
fluence without further anxiety or sadness. 
If I were not old and feeble, if my body were 
not frail as a reed, I would accompany you ; 
but as it is, I would be more of a hindrance 


94 the GREEK SLAVE. 

than a help to you. Go, and may God 
smooth your path and crown your enterprise 
with success! May you realize the ardent 
desire of your heart! may you find your 
parents alive, and rejoice for many years in 
their deliverance ! My heart bows in silent 
acquiescence, and I will detain you no longer.” 

“ Ah, surely they are alive !” cried Philip, 
with joy. “They will recognize me; my 
mother’s eye will read mine, and her tears — 
tears of rapture — will be my sweet reward. 
I shall succeed, my father, for God will be 
with me ! Do not doubt it, for this voice in 
my heart cannot deceive me !” 

He leaned on the breast of his deeply- 
moved foster-father, who, folding his hands 
over the head of the youth, invoked in silent 
prayer the blessing of Heaven upon him. 

Till late in the evening Santos and Philip 
conversed about the hazardous undertaking, 
which the former, overcome by his son’s fer- 


A POWERFUL PROTECTOR. 95 

vent filial love, no longer desired to postpone 
to future years. He gave Philip much valu- 
able counsel from his own experience during 
a long and an eventful life. It was late when 
they retired — Philip, with a heart full of hap- 
piness and sweet anticipations ; Michael, with 
secret and anxious fears, which he lulled by 
prayer. He loved Philip as his own child, 
and it was therefore natural that with a heavy 
heart he looked upon an undertaking which 
in all probability would rob him for ever of 
his foster-son, the joy and support of his old 
age. Meanwhile, he knew it was a holy feel- 
ing that urged Philip onward. The honest 
Santos sought to reconcile himself to what 
was inevitable, and to possess his soul in 
Christian patience. After the struggle was 
over he closed his eyes in sweet slumber for 
the night. 

The next morning Philip hourly awaited 
a message from Pasha Ibrahim to summon 


96 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


him into his presence. They waited long, 
and Michael began to doubt whether it would 
come that day, when toward mid-day the 
noise of horses’ hoofs was heard in the narrow 
alley in which Santos lived, and immediately 
a troop of splendidly-clad horsemen, glitter- 
ing with gold and jewels, came dashing up 
and halted before Michael’s hut. One of 
them, with resplendent and costly apparel- — 
a blooming youth of Philip’s age — sprang 
from the noble Arabian steed and entered 
the little room of our friends. 

“Achmet!” cried Philip, with sparkling 
eyes. “ My father, this is the generous youth 
to whom I am indebted for my fortune !” 

“ And this is the youth,” smilingly replied 
the son of the pasha, “ without whose aid I 
should never have been able to render a favor ! 
Then this worthy old man is your foster- 
father, my brother ? lam glad to look upon 
his venerable countenance.” 


> 


A POWERFUL PROTECTOR. 97 

Michael bowed low before the youth and 
said : “ May your entrance into this hut be 
blessed ! May you everywhere find hearts as 
grateful as ours! Please be seated*; the 
accommodations I can offer are not very in- 
viting, for we are poor.” 

“ Poor in gold, but rich in virtues,” replied 
Achmet. “ And that is the best wealth, says 
the Prophet, for it will not leave us at death, 
but go with us to heaven. But I have not 
come to rest. Philip, my father sent me to 
accompany you to him ; and you too, aged 
sir. He desires to see you, for the benefits 
which you have conferred upon your foster- 
son have won for you his respect. He says 
that you are a noble man, although but a 
Christian. Follow me, therefore ; the horses 
are waiting without which will quickly carry 
us to the palace.” 

The wish of the pasha was equivalent to 

an order, and Michael dared not think of re- 
9 G 


98 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

fusing to go. Neither did he fear the pasha, 
who had already shown himself so friendly to 
Philip, and only begged that he might be 
allowed to accompany them on foot, as he 
was not accustomed to ride. But Achmet 
was unwilling he should walk, saying : “ Do 
not fear ! I thought you might want a quiet 
and gentle horse, and I made the selection 
accordingly. You can ride this horse with- 
out fear ; he iS gentle, and has a very easy 
gait. Come on ; my father wishes to see you, 
and would not be pleased if Philip should 
come without you.” 

Michael resisted no longer. He followed 
Achmet and Philip, and was placed by the 
attendants of the youth upon a beautiful 
but gentle horse, whilst Achmet and Philip 
mounted fiery steeds. At an easy pace they 
rode through the streets of the city, where 
the people gazed with astonishment on old 
Santos riding at the side of Achmet. They 


A POWERFUL PROTECTOR. 99 

soon reached the pasha’s palace, where Santos 
was carefully lifted from his horse. The 
pasha, to whom Achmet conducted his com- 
panions without delay, received them with a 
friendly shaking of hands, and welcomed 
them with the Oriental salutation : “ Kosch 
amedid — you are welcome !” 

He ordered the servants to bring cushions, 
pipes and sherbets, and when his guests were 
made comfortable, he turned kindly to them 
and said to Michael : “ Masch Allah, what a 
man you are! You follow the precepts of 
the Prophet, since you pity the poor and help 
the needy. Why are you not a disciple of 
Mohammed ?” 

“ Oh, sir,” returned Michael, “ before your 
Prophet, Christ commanded that we should 
share our bread with the poor I I was born a 
Christian, and I wish to die one I” 

Be it so,” the pasha said. “ I will not 
force you to forsake your faith, which may 


100 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


not be so bad, after alii since it teaches to do 
good. You Christians are a wonderful peo- 
ple. It would be easy for many of you to 
reach high honors, if you would only ex- 
change your faith for the teachings of the 
Prophet, and yet you prefer to endure poverty 
for Christ’s sake !” 

*^Yes, my lord,” said Michael, “faith cannot 
be changed like a garment ; and pardon me for 
my freedom in saying that we Christians con- 
sider our faith the best in the world.” 

“Well, retain your religion; it shall not 
prevent me from doing you good,” replied 
Pasha Ibrahim, in a friendly manner. “ And 
you, my son,” turning himself to Philip — 
“are you still resolved to search for your 
parents ?” 

“ Yes, my lord, firmly resolved, if it be your 
will,” answered Philip, with flashing eyes. 

The pasha remained silent for a few mo- 
ments, enveloped in a cloud of tobacco smoke, 


A POWERFUL PROTECTOR. 


lOI 


which he drew from his costly pipe. The 
others awaited his reply in silence, and not 
venturing to interrupt his meditation. After 
a few minutes the pasha spoke : 

“ You are a good child, but the journey to 
Bagdad is far and the way through the desert 
dangerous. It would be better for you to 
remain here and let me attend to setting your 
parents free.” 

Philip, casting himself at the pasha’s feet, 
said : “ My lord, if the way were to the end 
of the world, and if I had to traverse the 
roughest paths with naked feet, I would not 
shrink from the journey. Have mercy on 
me, and let me depart !” 

“ Be still, my son,” replied the pasha, 
mildly. Arise and resume your seat. Far 
be it from me to hold you back or to break 
my promise. If you insist on going, you may 
go. But listen; I mean well, and you would 
be foolish not to listen to the voice of experi- 


102 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


ence. Achmet, my son, loves you! He is 
your friend 1 He wishes to be your brother I 
Remain here with him I I will furnish you 
costly garments, shining weapons and a 
spirited steed. You shall have abundance, 
and I will consider you my son. Rank, 
honors and position I promise you, and your 
path in life shall be bright like that of a star 
in the firmament T 

Philip shook his head. indeed love 

Achmet as a brother,” he replied ; “ but oh, 
sir, my parents are to me the most precious 
treasure on earth I” 

Well, we will care for your parents also ; 
they shall not be neglected,” answered the 
pasha. “ I will do all in my power for them, 
and I hope, yea, I am sure, they will soon be 
free.” 

Philip was quiet for a short time, and evi- 
dently struggling with himself. “ My lord,” 
he then said, “ I fully appreciate your great 


A POWERFUL PROTECTOR. IO3 

kindness ; do not consider me ungrateful if I 
nevertheless remain true to my purpose. I 
have no doubt you will exert yourself to fulfill 
my ardent desire, but will you succeed? 
Your messenger may be taken prisoner, may 
be murdered, or he may fear the dangers 
which he must meet, and avoid them. He 
may return and say: ‘Those that you are 
looking for, my lord, are dead !’ and we must 
believe him. Or he may take the ransom 
money, conceal himself in a distant country, 
and never return. It is altogether different 
if I go myself. I fear no hindrance and no 
danger. With God’s help I will overcome 
everything ; I will seek for my parents ; I will 
•search for them with an undaunted heart 
until I find them and break their chains. My 
lord, forgive me, but none but myself can 
succeed in this enterprise !” 

“You then disdain my favor?” said the 
pasha, with an offended air. “You despise 


104 the GREEK SLAVE. 

the good things which I wish to confer upon 
you, and the friendship of my son ?” 

“ No, my lord, oh no !” replied Philip. “ I 
do not scorn anything ! But see ; the happi- 
ness of my parents is of more value to me 
than my own. How can I help it, that my 
heart speaks thus ?” 

The wrinkled brow of the pasha grew 
smooth and his eye again looked kindly as 
he said : “ Depart then, and Allah’s blessing 
rest upon your head! Your love must be 
great to enable you to make such a choice. 
I cannot blame you ; nay, I am astonished, 
but I fear I shall never see you again. Go, 
my child ! If you return, your place in my 
house shall be open. Allah il Allah, what a 
lad I It is true, a servant would not accom- 
plish half that you will, for unless the heart is 
engaged there is little hope of success in such 
an enterprise. But enough I listen to my 
arrangements.” He beckoned to an attend- 


A POWERFUL PROTECTOR. IO5 

ant, who brought a roll of parchment upon a 
velvet cushion, and kneeling down, handed it 
to the pasha. He took the roll and gave it 
to Philip. 

“ Take it,” said he ; “ it is a firman with the 
signature of the sultan by his own hand ; 
may the Prophet bless it! It will procure 
you safe conduct as far as the padisha’s rule 
extends. Of course it will not protect you 
against the Bedouin robbers; as for them, 
you must trust Allah. In the harbor there 
lies a galley ready to sail. The captain has 
orders to take you on board and steer direct 
to Latakia. From there you will be obliged 
to find your way by land. It is now the 
season when caravans start from Aleppo to 
Bagdad. Join one of these, and may Allah 
be with you I The road is a long one and 
goes through the desert, where dangers lurk 
at every step of the traveler. May Allah 
strike the eyes of the Bedouins with blind- 


io6 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


ness, and protect you from the fatal breath of 
the simoon ! The money you may need you 
will find in the cabin of the galley. I hope 
there is more deposited there than you will 
need to ransom your parents and to defray 
the expenses of the journey; but if an acci- 
dent should happen on the way, go to the 
man in Bagdad v^ose name is on this card. 
He is my friend, and will give you whatever 
you may want for the accomplishment of 
your plans. Take good care of the card ; it 
may prove of great value to you. This is all 
I can do for you ; for the rest you must rely 
on Allah and your good fortune. Don’t 
speak of thanks, for I still remain your debtor 
for the rescue of my son. What I have done 
is only a reward for your faithful love to your 
parents. Ah, I know you Christians consider 
the Turks cruel and pitiless, but you see there 
are some among us who love virtue. You 
are dismissed, and Allah be with you !” 


A POWERFUL PROTECTOR. 10/ 

Philip was so overwhelmed with the kind- 
ness of the pasha that he was unable to speak 
his heart, and expressed his grateful joy by 
throwing himself at the feet of his benefactor 
and kissing the hem of his garment. The 
pasha, with another friendly look at Philip, 
turned and addressed a few words to Michael. 

“ My friend,” said he, “ you are aged and 
need rest. I owe you thanks also, for if you 
had not taken an interest in the orphan boy, 
he would not have saved my son out of the 
hands of the robbers. The Prophet com- 
mands that we requite good with good, and I 
would fain obey the precept. It is time you 
should rest from the toils of life. My treas- 
urer is directed to pay you yearly such a sum 
of zechins as will suffice for your support. 
Take this purse as a beginning ; it is yours. 
Go in peace !” ^ 

The pasha, with a dignified gesture, indi- 
cated his desire for them to retire. Philip 


I08 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

and Michael left the palace, accompanied by 
Achmet, and were amazed that, as Christians, 
they had been so favored by the Turks. 
Once more Achmet embraced his friend 
Philip, and placing a costly ring on his finger, 
said, w*ith much feeling : “ Depart, my brother, 
and may Allalj protect you ! When you re- 
turn, visit me and you will find a hearty wel- 
come. Remember me kindly, and be assured 
that I will often think of you !” 

Before Philip could utter one word of 
thanks Achmet tore himself away and has- 
tened into the palace. Philip and Michael 
were again assisted in mounting their horses 
and accompanied to their cot. Here they 
embraced each other with feelings altogether 
unlike those which Greeks generally enter- 
tained toward the Turks, their cruel oppressors. 

“Truly, truly,” spoke Michael, “Pasha Ibra- 
him said we deserve to be Turks ; but I say 
he deserves to be called a Christian !” 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE SHIP CAPTAIN. 

“ Jesus, thy blood and righteousness 
My beauty are, my glorious dress P 

T)HILIP being thus enabled, by the assist- 
ance of the noble pasha, to gratify the 
deep yearning of his soul, delayed not an in- 
stant longer than was necessary. On the 
evening of the same day he went to the vessel 
which the pasha had fitted up for his voyage 
to Latakia, and requested the captain to set 
sail as soon as possible. “ I am ready,” re- 
plied the captain, “ and the sooner we sail the 
sooner I can return. The wind is favorable 
and blows fresh from the southwest. Within 
an hour we will be off.” 


10 


109 



I lO 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


He at once made arrangements for the 
departure ; the anchors were raised, the sails 
unfurled. Meanwhile, Philip, and Michael 
who had accompanied his foster-son to the 
ship, went into the cabin in order to enjoy 
undisturbed the last moments of their being 
together. They continued in friendly con- 
versation till the time of departure. 

“All is ready,” said the captain. “The 
boat which brought you here is waiting, and 
as soon as you have entered it the galley will 
put to sea.” 

Michael grew pale and tears coursed down 
his cheeks. Rising, he embraced Philip, 
pressed him fondly to his heart, and bid him 
farewell. 

“ The moment to which I looked forward 
with trembling is here,” said he. “ Go, my 
child, and may the Lord be your guide! 
May he be merciful and gracious to you ; 
may he change the thorns of your path into 


THE SHIP CAPTAIN. 


Ill 


roses; may he smooth your way and give 
you success ! May your filial love find its 
reward, and your heart be filled with joy! and 
for this I will not cease to pray. I will 
always think of you, and my blessing will 
accompany you on the journey! Do not 
forget me ! Farewell, farewell, my son — my 
precious, beloved son ! God be with you !” 

Time and again did good Michael embrace 
his foster-son, who returned his tenderness 
with tears of heartfelt love. Philip accom- 
panied him on deck, and leaped into the boat 
as it was about starting, and threw himself 
once more upon the faithful and noble heart 
of his foster-father. 

“ Fare well and prosperously !” he called 
out to him. “ I will think of you with the 
deepest gratitude ; never will I forget the love 
and kindness which you showed toward me, 
a poor boy! Expect me back in a reason- 
able time. Farewell and be happy, for I 


II2 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


feel in my inmost heart that we shall meet 
again !” 

A last embrace, a last ardent kiss, and 
Philip disappeared. The boat pushed off 
toward the shore, the sails caught the fresh 
wind, and the galley swept out into the sea. 
Arrived on shore, Michael turned his tearful 
look once more to the ship to see the form 
of the dear boy, but it was too late. Philip 
sat in the darkest corner of the cabin and 
wept at the thought of parting from the man 
who loved him as a father. Never until his 
painful separation did he realize how much 
he loved the faithful Michael, and for a few 
hours he even forgot his parents in the ab- 
sorbing thoughts of his kind and generous 
benefactor. 

Meanwhile, the galley, with favoring winds, 
glided over the sea, and the next morning 
Philip was far from Candia. Quiet sleep had 
restored him to his usual composure, and he 


THE SHIP CAPTAIN. II3 

felt more than ever devoted to the great aim 
of his journey. On the upper deck the cap- 
tain sat comfortably smoking his pipe. Philip, 
after the usual salutation, sat down by his 
side. 

“ How long do you suppose the voyage 
will last?” he asked the captain, who was 
quietly observing the sailors, without taking 
any notice of the passenger. 

Allah knows; not I!” he replied, and 
stroking his long beard, resumed the pleas- 
ures of his pipe. 

“ But, my friend, you can calculate about 
how much time it will take you,” returned 
Philip. “ Have you never made the trip 
from Canea to Latakia ?” 

Often, and therefore I am positive when I 
say Allah alone knows how long our passage 
will take,” he grumbled. I have made it in 
six days, and it has taken, at other times, six 

weeks, and even more. Allah il Allah^ Mo- 

10* H 


II4 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

hammed resoul in Allah ! — God is God, and 
Mohammed is his Prophet! How can I 
foresee what winds will blow ?” 

But if the wind is favorable ?” inquired 
Philip. 

“ Other things might interfere which cannot 
be reckoned beforehand,” answered the cap- 
tain. “ Content yourself, and wait patiently 
what is to take place. Allah alone could 
answer your questions.” 

Philip, mortified at the rude behavior of 
the captain, turned away and leaned himself 
against the mast, while he gazed thoughtfully 
into the distance. The Turk did not concern 
himself any more about him, neither did he 
speak, but smoked his pipe and committed 
the guidance of the ship to God and the 
sailors. 

Probably an hour passed in this way when 
Philip saw in the distance a white speck, 
which at first he thought might be a small 


THE SHIP CAPTAIN. II5 

cloud, but in a little while the white sails of a 
ship appeared above the horizon, and seemed 
to approach rapidly without being observed 
by the Turks. The sailors lay about the 
deck, some of them asleep, the pilot alone on 
the lookout, whilst the captain was watching 
the clouds of blue smoke rising gracefully 
from his pipe. Meanwhile, the sails became 
more distinct, and Philip finally directed the 
attention of the captain to them. 

“A ship?” asked he. “Where? Ah, 
there !” 

Surprised and evidently alarmed, he gazed 
at the distant vessel ; even laid aside the long 
pipe and used the spyglass with intense in- 
terest. 

“ By Allah and the blessed Prophet,” he at 
length called out, “it is a Greek privateer! 
You whelps 1” he now roared to the sailors, 
“ is this a time for sleep and lounging about, 
when the Greek is so close upon us ? Bestir 


Il6 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

yourselves ! Go to work ! Round the helm 
and the sails ! Be quick, and perhaps we 
may yet escape him ! It is probable he has 
not yet seen us ! Lively, men, lively ! If 
we fall into their hands, I would not give a 
para for our heads 1” 

The words “ Greek privateer” sufficed to 
stir up the lazy crew of the galley. None of 
them had any especial desire to fall into the 
hands of the Greeks, and hence they exe- 
cuted the orders of the captain with an 
alacrity that promised success. The galley 
took another course, and after a few hours 
they lost sight of the threatening vessel. 
Danger was over, and with it passed away 
the vivacity of the captain, who again returned 
to his comfortable seat and pipe. With an 
air of condescension he beckoned Philip to 
come near, and after he was seated at his side 
observed him with kindlier looks than before. 

*‘Your watchfulness has averted a great 


THE SHIP CAPTAIN. 11/ 

danger from us,” said he. “ If we had fallen 
into the hands of the Greek privateer, un- 
doubtedly lasting captivity, if not instant 
death, would have been our lot. Now you 
see I was right in saying that I did not know 
when we would reach Latakia. We came 
very nigh never reaching there !” 

“ I did not expect that you could foresee 
all accidents,” returned Philip. ''I wished 
only to know how long our passage would 
take with a favorable wind.” 

“ Well, six, seven or eight days, according 
to circumstances,” answered the captain. “ My 
galley is a superior little vessel and sails fast. 
Let us place our confidence in Allah. What 
is to happen will happen. But tell me what 
has moved you to leave Candia ? What are 
you seeking in Latakia ? By what means did 
you persuade the pasha to order this galley 
to be fitted out for you ? By Allah, it must 
be important business with which the pasha 


Il8 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

entrusted you, else he would not have dis- 
turbed me so soon! I had just arrived from 
Stamboul, and was ordered to start at once. 
By the beard of the Prophet, it was an unwel- 
come command to me, for I had counted 
upon the pleasure of spending a few months 
in port.” 

Philip expressed his sorrow that he had 
been the innocent cause of the Turk’s dis- 
comfort, and in few words related to him 
the sacred enterprise which urged him to for- 
eign parts. The Turk listened attentively, 
and from time to time shook his head in 
wonder. 

“Allah il Allah, but what a simpleton you 
are !” he exclaimed, when Philip had finished 
his story. “ By the blessed Prophet, the door 
of fortune was wide open for you, and you 
had only to step in ! The mighty pasha 
Ibrahim your protector and well-wisher, and 
Achmet your friend ! What a chance you 


THE SHIP CAPTAIN. II9 

have rejected! The highest dignities and 
honors would have fallen into your lap, if you 
had not declined the offers of the pasha! 
And why declined ? In order to hunt a few 
old people who probably are long dead and 
buried. Do not be offended, friend, but 1 
must tell you that you have acted like a 
simpleton. Follow my advice ; return, throw 
yourself at the feet of the pasha, confess your 
folly, and implore him to take you back to 
his favor. Turn back quickly, and dismiss 
from your mind all thoughts of Bagdad and 
your parents.” 

Philip shook his head and replied: “I 
would rather die !” 

But the Turk continued to set forth the 
great advantages of the friendship of the pasha 
and Achmet, and to picture the dangers which 
he would meet if he persisted in his resolu- 
tion. Philip listened to him quietly, without 
interruption, and then repeated that all the 


120 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


happiness this world could bestow was not 
equal to the joy which he would experience 
in freeing his parents. He had counted on 
sufferings and dangers, and God would no 
doubt enable him to overcome them. 

‘^Well, go ahead then!” exclaimed the 
Turk, evidently displeased. “You may be a 
good son, but you are certainly the greatest 
of simpletons!” 

Quite offended, he turned away, and there 
was nothing more said to the lad that whole 
day. But Philip did not seem to mind it 
much, as his thoughts were occupied with 
his mission to Bagdad and the rescue of his 
parents. 

The following day the captain continued 
his sullen and offensive conduct toward the 
youth. Philip addressed him several times 
during the day, but received only curt and 
uncivil answers. More than ever did Philip 
wish for the end of the voyage, for the pros- 


THE SHIP CAPTAIN. 


I2I 


pect of sailing with such a morose captain 
was by no means pleasant. He climbed into 
the scuttle, that he might be as far away from 
him as possible and have a good time to him- 
self. 

Meanwhile, it appeared as if the weather 
was about to change, and the condition of the 
air which Philip breathed startled him. 
Accustomed for years past to roam over the 
mountains of the island of Candia, he had 
learned by observation to detect the slightest 
change in the atmosphere. After careful 
observation he perceived that a storm was 
coming, and at once notified the captain. 

You are a simpleton, as I told you yester- 
day,” answered the captain. ‘‘The sky is 
blue, the sea like a mirror, the sun is clear. 
Where is there any sign of the coming 
storm ?” 

“ In half an hour it will be here, and that 

from the south,” answered Philip, confidently. 

11 


122 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


“ Give orders immediately to draw in all the 
sails or we are lost! My life for a pledge 
that I am not deceiving you ! What, indeed, 
would I gain by it ? I certainly do not desire 
to delay the voyage.” 

You are right. I did not think of that,” 
said the captain, after brief reflection. “ Up, 
men 1” he then called out to the sailors ; 
“draw in all the sails; turn the rudder so 
that the bow of the galley points to the 
north I” 

The crew heard these orders with astonish- 
ment, and seemed to hesitate ; but the captain 
commanded them to proceed, and in a short 
time all arrangements had been made to 
withstand the effects of a hurricane that was 
just at hand. It came suddenly with ter- 
rible fury from the south, and undoubtedly 
would have capsized the galley if she had 
not been prepared to receive its shock. But 
now she escaped the danger and bravely re- 


THE SHIP CAPTAIN. I23 

sisted the hurricane, which was driving her 
before it with frightful rapidity. 

Fortunately, the tempest did not last long. 
In the evening it was again calm and no 
danger to be feared. The sun set gloriously, 
and there was scarcely a sign, even in the 
restless waves, of the fearful tumult in the 
elements that had just passed away. With a 
pleasant countenance the captain again re- 
clined on his seat and contentedly smoked 
his pipe, of which he had been deprived dur- 
ing the few hours of the storm. 

Friend,” said he to Philip, who was close 
by, enjoying the sublime sight of the setting 
sun — “friend, within the last few days you 
have twice saved me and my crew, and far be 
it from me to be unthankful to you. To be 
sure, you are a simpleton, but your folly shall 
not keep me from offering you good advice. 
Are you fully resolved to persist in this enter- 
prise ?” 


124 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


Firmly resolved, captain,” returned Philip. 

Nothing shall keep me from it !” 

“ Well, then, follow my counsel at least,” 
said the Turk. “ From the moment you 
land in Latakia, be careful that you do not 
betray your religion. If it should be dis- 
covered that you are a Greek and a Christian, 
you would be lost. They would persecute, 
rob, kill you, or abandon you in the midst of 
the desert without means. The pasha’s pro- 
tection and the firman would not secure you 
from such a fate. Believe me; I am ac- 
quainted with the Turks and the caravans 
that go from Aleppo to Bagdad. A great 
number of low and vicious persons are in 
them who need to be watched. Be careful, 
therefore, and be a good Turk and Mussul- 
man so long as you are among Turks and 
Mussulmans. Do you understand ?” * 

“ I think so,” answered Philip, “ but I will 
never deny my faith !” 


THE SHIP CAPTAIN. I25 

By Allah, you are a greater fool than I 
thought !” replied the captain. “ If you had 
not twice saved my life, I would let you rim 
headlong into destruction ; but I will confess 
that I like you, and although you are only an 
unbeliever — an unclean Christian dog — I 
believe the pasha was not far from right in 
saying that you were a good son. On ac- 
count of this virtue I will forget your folly, 
and therefore I repeat to you that you must 
act as Turk and Mussulman if you wish to 
preserve yourself and free your parents. If 
you do not give heed to my advice, you are a 
dead man, and your eyes will never behold 
Bagdad. I do not say that you are to forsake 
your religion and really become a Mussul- 
man — although that would be the best thing 
you could do — but you are only to assume 
the appearance, and whilst the others are 
praying to the blessed Prophet, you may 

adore your Christ ; but do it secretly, that no 
11* 


126 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

one may see you. There is no deceit in that. 
Keep your eyes open and be a wise youth.” 

“ You are right, and I thank you !” returned 
Philip, after a little thought. “Yes, our 
Saviour himself commands us to be wise as 
serpents, but harmless as doves. I will take 
your advice, and again let me thank you 
for it.” 

“ Well, by Allah, you have cause for it !” 
languidly replied the Turk. “Without my 
advice you would have been lost, as I had 
been without yours. Now we are even.” 

A few days after this conversation the 
galley reached the shores of Asia and an- 
chored in the harbor of Latakia. The captain 
had Philip’s effects taken ashore, and then 
accompanied him to provide him with a suit- 
able costume. He was as fond of Philip as 
his fanatical opposition to all unbelievers — 
whom he regarded as little less than dogs — 
allowed him to be, and it was a great proof 


THE SHIP CAPTAIN. \2J 

of his attachment that without considering 
his own inconvenience he had left the ship 
and gone on shore. He himself purchased a 
turban, shawl and all else that belonged to 
the dress of a young Turk, and was quite 
pleased with Philip’s appearance in his new 
costume. 

“Listen,” said he; “it is yet time! You 
would act more wisely if you would truly 
become a Mussulman and return with me to 
Candia to Pasha Ibrahim. Consider it ! 
What else lies before you but dangers of 
every kind if you persist in your willfulness ? 
And is it not very doubtful as to the result 
of your enterprise, even if you should escape 
death in the desert or at the hands of robbers ? 
How different if you return with me 1 In ten 
years you may win rank and dignity, and if 
fortune favor you, become pasha yourself! 
Then it would be time enough to search for 
your parents, and you could do it without 


128 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


danger. What say you? Agree it, and 
we will set sail to-day! Do not consider 
long ; I mean it for your good !” 

“ I need not consider it, my friend,” said 
Philip, with a smile. “ My resolution is fixed, 
and death alone can keep me from it.” 

“ Well, by Allah and the blessed Prophet,” 
muttered the Turk, “you are and will remain 
an incorrigible dunce I Well, go I We will 
hardly see each other again, so I bid you a 
last farewell I Farewell I Good-bye !” 

“Farewell!” said Philip, and pressed the 
Mussulman’s hand, who with proud dignity 
now turned down the street toward the har- 
bor, to return without delay to his beloved 
Candia. But, stopping for a moment and 
looking back, he said : “ Hear, my son ; if 
you should escape with your life, I will be 
pleased to hear from you. It would really 
rejoice me if you should succeed, although 
you are only an unbeliever !” 


THE SHIP CAPTAIN. 


129 


These were his last words to Philip. A 
few minutes after he was on board of his 
galley, and with outspread sails it flew away 
in the direction of Candia. 

Philip, forsaken and alone in a strange 
country, felt sad and despondent, but soon 
rallied his feelings of depression by thoughts 
of Bagdad and his parents, and putting his 

trust anew in God, went forward. 

I 




CHAPTER VII. 

THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT, 

“ For the love of Christ constraineth usT 

I3HILIP sought and found a place in a 
^ caravansary. Here he learned from Turk- 
ish merchants that the caravan would start 
from Aleppo to Bagdad in three days, and at 
once saw that he would have to make his 
arrangements quickly, if he wished to arrive 
in good time at Aleppo and join the caravan. 
The noble Pasha Ibrahim had furnished him 
with money, so that he had no care on this 
score. He at once purchased a dromedary 
and a few weapons, then went to the Turkish 
merchants and asked permission to go in 
their company to Aleppo. They cheerfully 

130 




THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I3I 

granted his request, and early next morning 
the little company started for the world- 
renowned commercial city. The merchants 
did not make any objection to receiving him. 
One of them asked him what business he had 
in Bagdad, to which Philip replied, without 
deviating from the truth, that he wished to 
visit some dear relatives, which answer fully 
satisfied the Turk. No one suspected that 
Philip was an unbeliever, for the Turkish cos- 
tume seemed as natural to him as if he had 
worn it from childhood. Besides, his words 
were few and his manner serious, such as 
suited the Turks, who are naturally sober and 
dignified. He took a due interest in their 
prayers and other religious ceremonies, of 
course with the distinction that he directed 
his supplications not to Allah and Mo- 
hammed, but to God and the Saviour. As 
no one was able to look into his heart, he 
was certain that they could not notice what 


132 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

he thought was a needful and an innocent 
concealment. 

The little company arrived in Aleppo with- 
out accident, and the earnest, modest beha- 
vior of the youth had made such an agree- 
able impression on the Turkish merchants 
that they kindly invited him to accompany 
them into the caravansary where they were 
wont to take up lodgings. Philip immediately 
accepted the invitation, and his well-wishers 
saw that he and his dromedary were well 
accommodated, for the place was crowded 
with merchants, camel-drivers and other 
travelers. 

More than five hundred persons had assem- 
bled at Aleppo who designed going to Bag- 
dad. An unusual stir was observed in the 
city, which Philip attributed, at first, to the 
great multitude of strangers ; but he soon dis- 
covered that there was another and more 
serious reason for the bustle and confusion. 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I33 

Yussuff, the merchant who had shown the 
most interest in him, informed him that in the 
province through which the caravan m'ust 
pass an insurrection had broken out, and that 
therefore it would be very dangerous and 
even foolhardy to travel the usual route. 

^‘But what will be done?” asked Philip. 
“The caravan, of course, will not be kept 
back altogether ?” 

“This would be better than to expose 
goods and life to danger, and perhaps lose 
everything by the rebel hordes,” answered 
Yussuff. “In the mean time, the leaders of 
the caravan are deliberating whether it is 
advisable, under the circumstances, to start at 
all ; and if so, whether it would not be expe- 
dient to provide a strong guard and to take a 
route by which they could avoid the rebel- 
lious province. They will likely decide upon 
the latter plan, and instead of traveling along 

the river Euphrates, go through the Sinjar 
12 


134 the GREEK SLAVE. 

and Syrian deserts. There are serious dan- 
gers on this route also, and many, no doubt, 
will be frightened and remain here ; but the 
majority of us will defy the dangers rather 
than suffer the loss of remaining in Aleppo. 
You, my son, had better defer your visit for a 
year at least." 

‘‘Oh no!" answered Philip, quickly. “I 
fear nothing, and my visit is important. And 
if all should remain behind, I would go alone 
to Bagdad !" 

“ But it would be folly, my son," said the 
Turk. “You are not acquainted with the 
terrors of the desert, and Allah forbid that 
you should ever know them I You are your 
own master, and no one has a right to com- 
mand you ; but I mean it well when I advise 
you to remain behind. I myself would not 
go if duty to my relatives did not constrain 
me to meet this danger, putting my trust in 
Allah." 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I35 

“ Sacred duty also compels me !” said 
Philip. “ I will not stay here, but accompany 
you. Nothing shall shake this resolution.” 

“Well, then, may Allah take you in his 
care!” said the Turk. “I have warned you; 
I can do no more.” 

In the course of the next day, Philip learned 
several other particulars as to the wearisome 
and dangerous journey to Bagdad, which, 
with various cautions given, were enough to 
deter him from going on ; but the desire to 
ransom his parents from bondage was so 
strong that all anxieties about himself were 
as nothing in comparison with this longing 
of his heart. He would start for Bagdad by 
himself if the caravan were to remain back, 
and he only awaited their decision before set- 
ting out upon his pilgrimage. Meanwhile, 
the merchants resolved, trusting to Allah’s 
protection, to make the journey through the 
Syrian desert, and to take so strong a military 


136 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

guard against the attacks of the Bedouins as 
would justify the hope of passing through the 
dangerous region unmolested and without 
loss. The majority of the caravan were de- 
lighted with the decision, and preparations 
were made to start without further delay. 

It was still dark as the caravan — a long 
train of camels, dromedaries, horses and 
mules — left the gate of Aleppo. In advance 
of the train and at the rear rode a strong 
troop of several hundred well-armed Turkish 
cavalry. Philip found himself in the midst 
of the train, on his dromedary, and his heart 
beat with joy at the thought that he was 
again on his way to bear the cheerful news 
of deliverance to his captive parents. With 
these pleasant thoughts in his mind he rode 
silently on his way. He scarcely noticed as 
the night passed into day, and even the call 
of the Moslem devotees, at sunrise, to engage 
in prayer was unheeded. In a moment all 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I37 

saddles were empty and the riders were 
kneeling on the ground, according to their 
custom, and worshiping after the order of the 
Prophet. Philip alone sat on his dromedary, 
and was only roused from his reverie and 
thoughtless neglect by the shout of angry 
Turks near by. He blushed, sprang from his 
animal, and prayed so earnestly that the strict 
believers were again reconciled, and attributed 
his former neglect of the order of the Prophet 
to absence of mind or some other excusable 
circumstance. 

There was but one among the crowd who 
seemed to suspect Philip. This fellow — 
Leontes by name, a Greek renegade from 
Candia, as Philip learned afterward — watched 
him intently, never taking his eyes from him 
during the prayers. After the ceremony was 
over he sought the company of Philip, and 
entered into conversation with him. Philip 
said very little, for there was something in 
12 * 


138 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

the look and manner of the fellow that was 
very repulsive. Philip was on his guard, for 
he had not only observed the searching look 
of the fellow in the morning when he ne- 
glected the call to prayers, but Yussiiff, the 
Turkish • merchant, had also warned him 
against Leontes, not to trust him, as he was 
known far and near as a bad man and a worth- 
less scamp. For paltry gain he had denied 
his faith, and from a bad Christian he had be- 
come a worse Mussulman. They must suffer 
him in the caravan, but no honorable man 
would have anything to do with him. Philip 
was warned to be careful of his purse, on 
account of the long-fingered rogue. Philip 
listened to this ^advice, and kept away from 
Leontes as much as possible. 

Day after day the caravan pressed steadily 
on, passing through Sokhur and Tadmor 
near the ruins of Palmyra, and finally entered 
upon the Syrian desert, called Barrai al 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I39 

Scham by the Turks and Arabs. A vast sea 
of sand stretched immeasurably before them, 
in which there was not an object to refresh 
the eye. There was not a tree nor blade of 
grass nor any green thing to be seen in this 
cheerless and sunburnt plain ; no living crea- 
ture broke the wild and dreary monotony, 
where the silence and solitude of death were 
strangely united. Involuntarily Philip shud- 
dered as he cast a glance over the billowy, 
glistening surface, and he felt a sad presenti- 
ment of evil. Yet he would not shrink from 
any toil, however great, which he might be 
called to encounter to reach his parents. His 
thoughts of them in the distance made him 
forget the cheerless prospect before him, and 
he spurred on the dromedary, which, like 
himself, appeared to shrink back before the 
dry and burning breath of the desert. 

The caravan pressed forward in a long 
line; like an eivdless serpent, glittering in 


140 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

brilliant colors, it stretched along the loose, 
dazzling sand of the arid waste. Anxiety 
was depicted in every countenance as they 
left behind all traces of life and entered on 
this vast, dull, dreary region of death. They 
looked with dread in all directions, for now 
they had to encounter not only the dangers 
of the simoon and scarcity of water, but were 
liable any moment to be attacked by prowl- 
ing Arabs, who coursed the desert with fiery 
steeds on their raids of plunder. The guards 
kept nearer the caravan than before, whilst a 
few troopers rode in wider circles from the 
train, in order to give the alarm of any ap- 
proaching danger, that they might be ready 
to meet it. Several days passed by without 
seeing an enemy, and their anxious fears be- 
gan to give place to the hope that they would 
cross the desert without being observed or 
molested by the plundering Bedouins. 

Meantime, another enemy, not less terrible 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I4I 

than the sword and spear of the Arabs, and 
even more difficult to escape, was approach- 
ing. There were unmistakable signs of -the 
coming simoon, and all awaited the impend- 
ing and destructive storm with trembling 
apprehensions. It came with glowing heat 
and suffocating vapors, filling the eyes, ears, 
mouth and nose with the red clouds of hot, 
fine sand, penetrating through the clothes to 
the skin with a burning sensation. They all 
fell at once on the sand, covering their heads 
with their garments, calling on Allah for 
mercy and protection in this hour of fearful 
peril. Philip prostrated himself with the rest, 
and he was so astonished and overcome by 
this strange and frightful calamity that for the 
second time, regardless of human prudence, 
he called on God instead of Allah for mercy, 
in Greek, the language of his childhood. Of 
course his voice, in the fearful roar of the 
storm, would hardly be heard, except by 


142 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

some near and listening ear. Philip trembled 
at his carelessness when he thought of 
Leontes, who was near by cowering in the 
sand. The storm fortunately soon blew over ; 
man and beast again raised their heads, and 
Philip devoutly thanked his Father in heaven 
for his protection from sudden death. Whilst 
all, with loud voice, cried to Allah and the 
Prophet, he happened to look in the direction 
of his neighbor Leontes, and met such a 
malicious, triumphant glance from his dark 
and fiendish eyes that he felt at once assured 
that Leontes must have heard his prayer to 
God, and seen through his disguise. Although 
this was the fact, Leontes did not seem, for 
the time, to take advantage of the important 
discovery. He turned away from Philip, who 
breathed more freely in the hope that he was 
mistaken, and that Leontes, with the rest, had 
not noticed his imprudence. 

The caravan proceeded on its way, and late 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I43 

in the afternoon it reached an oasis, where 
the exhausted men and beasts could quench 
their thirst from a cistern which was so deep 
and well protected that it was not affected by 
the hot simoon. Philip drank with delight 
from the clear spring and watered his drome- 
dary, after which he went to one side to make 
room for others who were panting for water. 
His tired animal lay down, and he stretched 
himself beside it, leaning with his back 
against the shoulders of the dromedary, and 
observed with interest the lively stir which 
was going on at the well in the desert. 

As he was absorbed in this interesting 
sight some one touched his arm and said to 
him in Greek : Blessed be Jesus Christ !” . 

To all eternity !” returned Philip, instinct- 
ively, to this Christian salutation, and turned 
to see who it was. He shuddered as he be- 
held Leontes, who looked upon him with an 
equivocal smile. 


144 the GREEK SLAVE. 

“ Be quiet !” said he, as Philip, pale with 
excitement, was about to rise. ‘‘ I know that 
you are a Christian, but nobody else has even 
a suspicion of it, and if you are sensible, no 
one need know anything about it.” 

*‘What do you wish?” answered Philip, 
who tried to compose himself as much as 
possible. How do you know who I am ? 
Why do you imagine that I am a Christian ? 
Go, and let me alone ! I do not interfere with 
you, and why do you trouble me ?” 

“ Do not deny it, but at once cast aside 
your mask before me,” replied the renegade, 
with a derisive look. “ One word from me to 
the leader of the caravan, and you are a lost 
man. You are a Christian. I heard you call 
on your Christian God during the simoon, 
and my memory is not so short as not to 
know what that means. And why did you 
answer to my Christian salutation? It is folly 
for you to attempt any longer to deceive me ! 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I45 

Besides, I am well acquainted with you ; for 
although years have gone by since I saw 
you, I know that you are Philip, the foster- 
son of old Michael Santos, and I can easily 
imagine why you are going to Bagdad. Son 
of Messaros the Grecian, you wish to free 
your father from slavery !” 

Philip sat there amazed. He could no 
longer doubt that Leontes, the Greek rene- 
gade, had recognized him, and he must fear 
the worst from the bad character of this man 
if he did not succeed to win him over and get 
him to keep silence. Yet he made a last 
effort to shake off Leontes by saying : “ Tis 
true, I am Philip, the son of the Greek Mes- 
saros. Why should I deny it? You your- 
self were a Greek and are now a good Mus- 
sulman ! What have you to fear ? If you 
have nothing to fear, why should I ? Are 
you sure that I am yet a Christian? You 

say it is years since you last saw me. How 
13 K 


146 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

do you know that I am not a renegade, a 
Mussulman like yourself?” 

Leontes laughed mockingly. “Your call- 
ing upon the God of the Christians. Is that 
the proof that you are a follower of the 
Prophet ?” he asked. 

“ That proves nothing for or against me,” 
answered Philip. “ Old habits cannot be laid 
aside as easily as an old garment. You your- 
self accosted me with the Christian saluta- 
tion. I might as well claim that you are still 
a Christian.” 

“It might be hard for you to prove this 
assertion,” said Leontes, jeeringly. “ Every- 
body is acquainted with me ; no one knows 
you. Decide quickly I It depends upon you 
whether I am to be your friend or foe ! As 
friend, you need fear nothing from me; as 
enemy, everything !” 

“ What do you demand ?” inquired Philip. 

“A thousand piasters!” briefly returned 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I47 

Leontes. With this sum you can purchase 
my silence !” That was about the amount of 
the ransom money for his parents which 
Pasha Ibrahim had generously presented to 
him. If he gave that, he would reach Bagdad 
empty-handed. To be sure, he had the 
pasha’s introduction to Kara Bey, in Bagdad, 
who perhaps would not hesitate to replace the 
lost sum. But should he thus abuse the con- 
fidence of the noble pasha ? Even if he were 
to do it, was he certain that Leontes would 
not continue to persecute him and make new 
attempts to extort money from him ? No, it 
would certainly be better decidedly to reject 
the shameful demand of the renegade and 
await what Leontes would do. If the worst 
should happen, Philip possessed the firman of 
the sultan, which promised him protection, 
and perhaps Yussuff, the Turkish merchant, 
would interest himself in his behalf, as he had 
warned him against Leontes, and the charge 


148 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

of such a renegade after all could not be a 
very serious matter. 

A thousand piasters !” said Philip, after he 
had resolved on his course. In truth, sir, 
your demand is enormous ! And for what do 
you demand this sum ? For something that 
I care nothing about — your silence ! I have 
nothing to keep silence about ! Go, proclaim 
that I am a Christian, and see what will come 
of it ! I am not so much of a stranger or so 
defenceless as you imagine ! I have friends 
who will take my part ! Go, for I will not 
purchase your silence !” 

The eyes of the renegade flashed with 
anger, and his naturally repulsive face was 
distorted into grim^ices of the most frightful 
ugliness. “Are you in earnest? Is that 
your decision?” he asked, in a voice trem- 
bling with rage. 

“ I am fully in earnest and firmly resolved,” 
answered Philip. “I fear not your threats, 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I49 

and I despise your attempts at extortion. 
Go ; no doubt I am a better believer than 
you, and my friends will confirm it.” 

‘‘You will hear from me again!” cried 
Leontes, trembling with excitement, and 
quickly disappeared among the throng which 
still surrounded the well. Although Philip 
was not sorry that he had refused the de- 
mands of the miserable fellow, yet a secret 
fear of the consequences of his betrayal by 
Leontes came over him, and he was about to 
look after Yussuff for advice, when a small 
division of the armed guards which accom- 
panied the caravan came galloping toward 
him. Leontes was in the midst of them, and 
called out, as he pointed his finger at Philip : 
“ That is he ! Seize him I He is a Christian 
spy !” 

“ However that may be,” said the leader of 
the band to the youth, “ you must follow us. 
You shall have a chance to defend yourself 


150 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

Abdallah, the conductor of the caravan, has 
ordered you to be brought before him.” 

“ I will follow you,” replied Philip. Allow 
me but an instant to look up the sultan’s 
firman in my baggage.” 

When Leontes heard of the sultan’s pass- 
port, he became alarmed and tried to hinder 
Philip from taking it with him. The com- 
mander of the cavalry checked him, and 
Philip was allowed to take the firman. He 
put it in his belt and quietly followed the 
riders to Abdallah, the chief-conductor, who 
was an old man of venerable appearance. 
He received the youth with stern dignity, 
offering him neither a seat nor a welcome. 

Allah akbar — God is great !” said he, after 
he had looked on Philip a while with pene- 
trating gaze. “I hear strange things about 
you ! Is it true what the renegade says 
of you, that you are an unbeliever, a follower 
of the Nazarene, albeit you call yourself a 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I5I 

Mussulman ? Beware how you reply to my 
questions.” 

‘'Sir, I am a true believer,” said Philip, 
equivocally. “ That man threatened to accuse 
me before you if I would not give him a 
thousand piasters, and from that you can 
judge what sort of fellow he is. Look at 
this firman of the sultan, which promises me 
protection and safety.” 

“By the beard of the Prophet, it is the 
genuine signature of the lord of the world, 
our padisha!” said Abdallah, after he had 
glanced at the firman. “Renegade dog,” 
said he, turning angrily to Leontes, “ why do 
you fill my ears with lies ? How dare you 
attempt your bold impositions on a true be- 
liever? Lead him away to the bastinado! 
Fifty blows on the soles of the feet will teach 
him better manners I” 

“ Hold, hold I” cried out Leontes, tearing 
away from the leader of the horsemen, who 


152 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

had already seized him, and throwing himself 
at the feet of Abdallah. Do not, my lord, be 
deceived by the smooth words of this impos- 
tor ! As true as I am a good Mussulman and 
a zealous adherent of the Prophet, this fellow 
is -an unbelieving dog, and his words are false. 
Ask him whether he is willing to curse the 
Christian faith; let him say, Allah il Allah^ 
Mohammed resoul m Allahy and then decide 
whether he really adheres to Allah and the 
Prophet ! Just see how pale he is becoming ! 
His very countenance betrays him ! Seize 
him, men, seize him !” 

A decided motion of Abdallah’s hand put 
back the guards, who were approaching to 
seize Philip, whose embarrassment seemed to 
confirm the statement of his accuser. 

How, my son,” said Abdallah to Philip ; 
“ is this renegade speaking the truth ? Have 
you lied to me ? Answer, are you a Mussul- 
man or a Christian ?” 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I53 

“ I am a believer !” answered Philip. 

Abdallah’s countenance grew dark with an 
angry scowl. “ The Christians also call 
themselves believers, although they are no 
better than dogs,” said he. “ If you are an 
adherent of the blessed Prophet, repeat after 
me, Allah il Allah, Mohammed resoul in 
Allah — God is God, and Mohammed is his 
prophet !” Philip drew back pale and trem- 
bling. This was a demand to deny his faith, 
and his conscience forbade him to go so far. 
He was willing to assume the outward appear- 
ance of a Mussulman, although his conscience 
told him that this was an evasion of the truth, 
but he could go no farther. Instead of re- 
peating the words of Abdallah, he dropped 
his head upon his breast in silence. 

“ Do you now see, my lord, that I told you 
the truth ?” exclaimed Leontes, maliciously. 
“ He is a Christian hound and a spy, only 
come to betray the caravan to the Arabians, 


154 the GREEK SLAVE. 

who hired him for this purpose ! Kill him, 
master, kill him !” 

** This fellow lies, and he is speaking out 
of revenge !” said Philip, who had meanwhile 
composed himself “ Yes, I no longer deny 
that I am a Christian, and if this deserves 
punishment, I will bear it without murmuring. 
But treachery is far from me. A very differ- 
ent object leads me to Bagdad, and even you, 
O master, though you despise us Christians, 
will not disapprove this design !’* 

“ Whatever he may say do not believe him, 
my lord !” exclaimed Leontes. “ The knave 
lies ! I know him well ! His father fought 
against the Turks, and he himself hates them 
with a deadly hatred !” 

Be silent !” Abdallah coldly commanded 
the traitor. ‘^We know you well — your 
mean, low avarice. Speak, unbeliever!” again 
turning to Philip. “ As you are a Christian, 
how came you by that padisha’s firman ?” 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I55 

“ Pasha Ibrahim of Candia, my noble pro- 
tector, furnished me with it,” answered Philip. 

And not only that ; he also gave me a few 
lines to Kara Bey in Bagdad.” 

Let me see that,” said . Abdallah, with 
evident interest. Philip took the letter from 
his belt, where he had carefully preserved it, 
took off the wrapping, and handed it to 
Abdallah. He read it with surprise, and 
murmured to himself : “ No doubt it is from 
my old friend Ibrahim! I know his hand- 
writing I” 

He remained standing for a while thought- 
fully, and then turned to those about him, 
saying in quiet dignity: *^A11 of you leave 
the tent; I wish to be alone with this 
youth 1” 

All reverently withdrew, the curtain of the 
tent dropped, and Abdallah kindly demanded 
the youth to relate to him his history. Philip 
now spoke without reserve, and Abdallah was 


156 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

soon fully informed what his relation to the 
pasha was and his journey’s aim. 

“It is well!” said he. “You are a noble 
youth I Fear no more, but be assured that 
not a hair of your head shall be hurt. Of 
course I must put you in fetters and appoint 
a guard over you, but this is only done to 
secure you against the persecutions of that 
rascally renegade. If I were to let you go 
free, Leontes would excite all good and 
zealous Mussulmans against you, and you 
would scarcely escape death. Once arrived 
in Bagdad, the firman of the grand sultan will 
protect you, and Kara Bey will take an inter- 
est in you. I will take care that you are re- 
leased as soon as we arrive there. Fear no 
longer ; you are under my protection, although 
in chains.” 

Surprised at the fortunate termination of 
Leontes’ treachery, Philip sank at the feet of 
the noble Abdallah and stammered words of 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I57 

thanks. But Abdallah interrupted him and 
raised him up. 

“ Be quiet; do not thank me !” said he. “I 
willingly show you my protection for the 
sake of my friend Ibrahim and for your own 
sake. You are a good youth, and I am re- 
joiced that you did not deny your faith. 
We Turks, indeed, accept renegades, but we 
respect and honor only those who receive our 
faith from inward conviction. Persons like 
that Leontes, who abandon their religion 
merely for the sake of outward advantage, are 
contemptible objects in our eyes. Be silent ! 
Let it not be noticed that I am your pro- 
tector, and I can be it the easier. Betake 
yourself to the entrance of the tent.” 

Philip obeyed, and Abdallah’s call brought 
back the guard. 

“ Seize this youth,” said Abdallah, pointing 
to Philip ; put him in fetters and guard him 

well. He shall always remain near me, that 
14 


158 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

I myself may keep an eye on him. This is 
my will ; depart !” 

Quickly they seized Philip and led him 
from the tent. Leontes remained, with the 
hope of receiving some reward from Abdallah ; 
but he looked upon him with undisguised 
contempt, and asked briefly : “ What more do 
you desire ?” 

“ Master, it was I that unmasked the 
traitor,” answered Leontes. “Will you not 
let the sun of your favor shine upon me ? 
Had it not been for me the dog would still 
be laughing in his sleeve at all believers.” 

“You have only performed your duty,” 
retorted Abdallah. “A good Mussulman does 
his duty without expecting a reward for it. 
Go, or else I will be compelled to think that 
you have not done it from zeal for the true 
faith, but have become the accuser of your 
countryman from mere selfishness. With- 
draw at once !” 


THE DANGERS IN THE DESERT. I59 

Leontes, who had expected a great reward 
for his information, left the tent with rage in 
his heart. Gnashing his teeth, he muttered, 
as he left the place, “ Only wait ; you shall all 
be sorry for it ! The hour is at hand when 
Leontes shall yet triumph !” 

Murmuring some more words indistinctly, 
he departed, and his form was soon lost in 
the crowd of travelers and their beasts of 
burden. 




CHAPTER VIII 


THE BEDOUINS. 


“ The sun shall not smite thee by day^ nor the moon by 
nightl^ 



HILST Leontes, the traitor, trembled 


with fury and rage, Philip was quietly 
and patiently awaiting the end of his impris- 
onment, and did not fret much on account of 
the fetters which Abdallah had ordered to be 
put on him. With the exception of his want 
of freedom, he had no complaint to make. 
Next morning, as the caravan was about to 
start, they brought him his dromedary, and 
no one thought of depriving him of any of his 
property. They allowed him his papers, 
weapons, and even his money, and Abdallah, 


160 



THE BEDOUINS. l6l 

who rode near by, carefully saw to it that 
during the course of the day his every need 
was supplied, and that no harm was done to 
him. Every one treated him kindly, and 
Leontes alone cast an angry look on him as 
he rode by during the day. 

Meanwhile, the caravan set forward with 
all possible speed. Two days would bring 
them to the border; no one had molested 
them, and no wandering Arabs had been seen. 
They began to think all danger was over, and 
even the guards became careless, and had no 
fears of evil, least of all of an attack by Arabs. 

But suddenly, one night, they saw a rocket 
ascending through the crimson sky, and all 
hearts were filled with amazement. Instantly 
a few horsemen rode in the direction where 
the signal had been given. All was quiet, 
and though they searched in every direction, 
no trace could be discovered which could be 

a ground of fear. The riders returned to 
14* L 


i62 the GREEK SLAVE. 

camp, and sudden fear soon gave way to the 
former feeling of security. It was even ques- 
tioned by some whether it was a rocket; 
others said that it was only a falling star. 
They soon recovered from the sudden panic, 
and all was quiet during the night. The 
next morning the caravan set out upon its 
daily journey. 

The horsemen, instead of riding in close 
rank, scattered over the plain, and playfully 
throwing their lances (dscherids) up into the 
air, engaged in a sham battle, whilst the cara- 
van carelessly rode along without order, en- 
joying the spectacle, never thinking of 
danger. Suddenly a cloud of dust rose in 
the distance ; it approached with the rapidity 
of the wind, and had almost reached the cara- 
van when the cry of terror was heard : The 
Bedouins ! the Bedouins !” 

The caravan was seized with a panic, and 
as soon as the attack was made the men ran 


THE BEDOUINS. 163 

in all directions, and even Abdallah’s com- 
mand could not arrest their flight. The 
horsemen who had just before fought in the 
sham battle now hurried to the real one, but 
they were soon overcome by the Bedouins, 
and, like those whom they were intended to 
protect, they fled in wild and reckless con- 
fusion. In fact, there was no fight. The 
Bedouins rushed down upon them with such 
impetuous and overwhelming power that 
there was no time for battle ; the horsemen 
were scattered in a moment, and the caravan 
surrounded without resistance. Some of the 
travelers escaped, but most of them were 
taken prisoners. Their weeping and lamen- 
tations, mingled with shouts of victory from 
the Bedouins, filled the air. The prisoners 
were placed in the inidst of the conquerors, 
and the train of plunderers, with its cap- 
tives, departed almost as rapidly as it came. 

Among the prisoners was Philip, who, fet- 


164 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

tered as he was, could not even make an 
effort to flee. He bore his fate with apparent 
composure, and whilst the prisoners were 
uttering their lamentations, he sat on his 
dromedary in silent submission. His confi- 
dence in God, who had been his helper in so 
many dangers, kept him from despondency. 
He believed that his heavenly Father, with- 
out whom not a sparrow falls, would make 
some way for him to reach Bagdad and de- 
liver his poor parents. Not for a moment did 
he doubt of deliverance for himself and his 
parents, and only lamented that the time was 
postponed for a season, and perhaps for years. 

Gradually the Bedouins relaxed the haste 
with which they had hurried the prisoners 
through the desert. It was evident that the 
aim of the robbers was only to bring their 
booty into a place of safety, and to escape an 
attack of the armed horsemen who were the 
protectors of the caravan. These horsemen 


THE BEDOUINS. 


165 

might rally and pursue the Bedouins, and if 
they should bring on another engagement, 
the issue was by no means certain, as the par- 
ties were nearly equal in numbers. But as 
two hours had passed, and there was no sign 
of their pursuit, the leader of the robbers felt 
safe in moderating their speed and resting the 
horses and beasts of burden. Riding through 
the disordered throng of prisoners, he ob- 
served Philip, who, though fettered, was the 
only one among the weeping multitude who 
was quiet and composed, and in a moment 
the leader was at his side. 

^‘Who bound you?” he inquired. “An- 
swer! I am Achmet Bey, the chieftain of 
my tribe 1” 

“ These fetters,” replied Philip, “ were put 
on me by order of Abdallah, the leader of the 
caravan.” 

“And why? What crime did you com- 
mit?” 


i66 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


None ! Only because I was a Christian 
did they fetter me. That man” — ^pointing to 
Leontes, who was not far from him — “ be- 
trayed me to Abdallah because I was un- 
willing to buy his silence for a thousand 
piasters.” 

“ That one ? Is he the traitor ?” said the 
chief ** I know hirfi well ! He is a scoun- 
drel, and betrays everybody ! He betrayed 
your caravan to me by a rocket, which he 
sent up last evening to indicate the position 
of the camp. He is a scoundrel, and though 
he expects a great reward, he will find him- 
self mistaken.” 

But did you not promise to reward him ?” 
asked Philip. ** I have heard that you Bed- 
ouins never break a promise.” 

And do you think I wish to break it?” 
retorted the chieftain. Five thousand pias- 
ters have been promised him, and he shall 
receive them. But I did not say that he 


THE BEDOUINS. 16/ 

should go out unharmed. First I will reward 
his treachery, thus fulfilling my promise, and 
then” — a gesture of the Bedouin spoke his 
intention without words. 

‘‘Then you intend to kill him?” asked 
Philip, with a shudder. 

Achmet Bey carelessly nodded his head. 
“Yes,” said he, “the cord will be his fate, 
for he will be strangled if he does not volun- 
tarily give back the promised sum. The 
traitor deserves nothing better. But enough 
of him. We will speak of yourself Your fet- 
ters shall at once be taken from you, although 
you are an unbeliever. I care nothing about 
religion. I esteem only the brave. I noticed 
that you never winced when our swords were 
brandished over* your head at the time of our 
attack, and you are the only one that does 
not whine and lament, whilst all the others 
howl like cowardly dogs. Take the chains 
off from him !” 


i68 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


In a moment Philip was released from his 
fetters by some Bedouins standing near. 

“So I wish it,” spoke the chief, “and if 
you promise to make no attempt at flight, 
you shall receive your weapons and be as free 
as any of us. Will you promise ?” 

Philip thought a few moments, for the 
thought of secret flight seemed so enticing, 
the escape so easy if he were once free, that 
he hesitated. 

“ Well,” said the chieftain, “ I see you ex- 
pect to run away ! But dismiss that thought. 
If you do not promise, you will be closely 
watched, and though I highly esteem you, 
instant death will be your fate if you attempt 
to escape. Notwithstanding, you shall receive 
your weapons, for I am pleas^ with you.” 

“ Enough !” exclaimed Philip, overcome by 
the friendly magnanimity of the Bedouin 
chieftain. “I promise not to attempt to 
escape without your leave.” 


THE BEDOUINS. 


169 


Well, then you are free, for I trust you !” 
kindly returned Achmet Bey. “ I hope, in- 
deed, you will not part from us, for we 
Bedouins love the brave and seek to attract 
them, even if they are heathen or Turks. 
Courage and contempt of death — that is our 
religion. What think you ? can you make 
up your mind to enter our troop ?” 

No, never !” answered Philip, candid and 
fearless. “ When I have related to you why 
it is impossible, your brow, which is now so 
wrinkled, will be smooth again.’' 

“ Well, at another time we will hear about 
that,” answered Achmet Bey. “ Now let us 
attend to the traitor. Bring Leontes, the 
spy, hither.” 

A few horsemen brought Leontes from the 
midst of the prisoners and placed him before 
the sheik. Leontes approached with a flatter- 
ing smile on his lips, such as scoundrels 
only can wear, and bowed so low to the bey 

15 

V 


I/O THE GREEK SLAVE. 

that his brow almost touched the neck of 
his horse. 

“ Leontes,” said the sheik, with cold con- 
tempt, ** you have kept your word like a real 
miscreant, base fellow and traitor, and now it 
is my turn to perform my promise. What 
did I promise you? Listen well, men, and 
note his answer !” 

‘‘Five thousand piasters, sun of the uni- 
verse !” replied Leontes. “ Not one para 
more or less.” 

“ Well, and is that all ?” inquired Achmet 
Bey. 

“All, yes, all! Your slave does not de- 
mand more,” answered the traitor. 

“Well, you have heard it! Count him 
over the money !” ordered the sheik. 

Instantly five bags were placed before the 
traitor, and he uttered thanks to the bey, 
whose faithfulness and truthfulness he praised 
beyond the clouds. 


THE BEDOUINS. 


I7I 

Enough !” finally said the sheik, with un- 
disguised disgust, and motioned to Leontes 
to be silent. “ Answer me this one question 
with a brief yes or no : Have I fully kept my 
word ?” 

“Yes, my lord, yes!” said Leontes. “But 
do not bid me be silent I I have some further 
information which will be for your advan- 
tage.” 

“ Another betrayal ? Speak 1” 

“ That fellow,” said Leontes, with a fiendish 
smile, pointing to Philip — “ that fellow has a 
bag full of zechins. Plunder him — have him 
searched, and you will not only be satisfied 
with your slave, but give him an additional 
reward I” 

“ Does he speak the truth ?” inquired the 
sheik, turning to Philip. 

“ He does I” replied Philip, for he well saw 
that denial would be of no use, and drew 
forth his purse; “here is all I possess. It 


172 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

was intended as a ransom for my poor 
parents, who for many years have pined in 
slavery. But I am your prisoner ; take it !” 

No, keep it ; we will speak of it after- 
ward,” said the sheik; “now we will finish 
with this miserable traitor ! Wretch, knave, 
dog knowing only treachery and villainy, I 
have kept my word, as you yourself have 
confessed, but we are not quite done with 
each other yet! We reward the treachery, 
but despise the traitor ! Away with him ! 
Choke him, and throw his miserable corpse 
on the sand of the desert as food for vultures 
and jackals 1 Away I I do not wish to see 
him any longer 1” 

It is impossible to describe the terror which 
seized Leontes on hearing these words. His 
face became distorted by the fear of death, 
and he trembled so violently that he could 
scarcely speak. With a strong effort he at 
last became somewhat composed, threw him- 


THE BEDOUINS. I73 

self from his horse into the dust, wept aloud, 
and begged in such pitiful tones for life that 
even Philip, though he had but little reason 
for it, was moved with pity for, him. 

“ Take everything — money, weapons, cloth- 
ing and horse — only spare my life !” shrieked 
Leontes. “ I will be your slave, your dog ; 
beat me, scorn me, kick me, but do not kill 
me !” 

Let him have his poor life,” entreated 
Philip of the sheik, who was looking down 
on the miserable wretch coldly and unmoved. 

He cannot injure you, and perhaps this fear 
of death which he now feels may teach him a 
good lesson, that he may come to himself, 
repent of his evil deeds and do better.” 

Well, let him live, if he wishes to pur- 
chase his life,” spoke the sheik, after some 
reflection. “ He is to be free for ten thousand 
piasters !” 

Allah il Allah, ten thousand piasters!” 

16 ♦ 


174 the GREEK SLAVE. 

exclaimed Leontes. I have not a para 
more than the five thousand piasters which I 
just received by your favor! Take them, 
great sheik, and have mercy on me I By 
Allah and the blessed Prophet, I have not a 
para more ! Let me die on the spot and be 
cursed if I deceive you, light of the universe 1 
Oh, let one ray of your grace fall upon your 
unfortunate slave, and pity him !” 

“Take the money and fetter him!” com- 
manded the sheik. “ Let him live, but we 
will at least make him harmless. Put him in 
chains and drag him after you as a dog, 
which he is !” 

The order of the sheik was attended to in a 
trice. They fettered the prisoner’s hands, 
put a rope round his neck, the other end of 
which was fastened to the saddle of one of 
the riders, and thus Leontes had to follow the 
train, which, fortunately for him, did not go 
as fast as in the beginning. They also soon 


THE BEDOUINS. I75 

reached the encampment of the Arabs in the 
midst of the desert, and here Leontes was 
kept fettered, which prevented his flight, but 
did not hinder him from performing the 
severest toil, to which he was driven without 
mercy. Philip, on the other hand, was free 
to come and go ; the sheik and all his follow- 
ers treated him respectfully, and he would 
have been quite contented with his lot but 
for the remembrance of his dear parents. 
The memory of them, and the longing to see 
them, made him restless, and instead of re- 
joicing in his freedom, he passed his days in 
painful and depressing sadness. 

Thus months passed with little change in 
the life of Philip, except that day after day 
Achmet Bey pressed his protege to join his 
troop and share their fortunes. On the other 
hand, Philip, who had frankly confessed to 
him the aim of his journey to Bagdad, daily 
begged him for freedom. But Achmet did 


1/6 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

not wish to lose the youth whom he esteemed, 
and Philip could not give up the parents 
whom he loved above everything, else. 

“Well, my friend,” finally said Achmet 
Bey to Philip one day, “ we must put an end 
to this state of things. My men are insisting 
upon it, and I also want to be certain. Ex- 
plain yourself, therefore. If you wish to 
remain as one of our number, you shall be 
highly honored and be in rank next to me. 
The brave sons of the desert shall obey you 
as they do me, and your share of the booty 
that we capture shall be as large as mine. If 
you refuse this offer, you will be forced to 
perform the most slavish work, and instead 
of mounting a fleet steed and brandishing the 
sword, you will be compelled to handle the 
hoe and the spade. Make up your mind ! I 
will allow you another day for reflection, but 
then your fate will be decided. Consider 
well your decision, and do not forget that you 


THE BEDOUINS. I77 

can in no way ever gain your freedom. For- 
get your parents. You cannot aid them, and 
you will only share their fate if you are not 
prudent. Go ! I do not wish an answer 
now. Think of it till to-morrow. You are 
to choose between freedom and honor, and 
slavery and hardship !” 

Philip was about to reply, but the sheik 
did not wait to hear him. Sad and cast down, 
Philip wandered about in painful suspense. 
He did not wish to become a companion of 
the plundering Bedouins, and yet he recoiled 
with horror from a life-long bondage. He 
thought of escaping, which would be com- 
paratively easy, as the fleetest steeds were at 
his service, and he had only to mount and 
speed his flight with the swiftness of the wind. 
But he at once resisted the tempting thought, 
for he had given his promise not to flee, and 
he would rather die than wickedly break his 

word. But what was he to do ? 

M 




iy8 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

Suddenly he heard his name whispered, 
and turning round, he recognized Leontes, 
who beckoned him to himself. Though he 
had always avoided the wretch, he now went 
to him to ascertain what he wanted. Leon- 
tes looked cautiously about him, laid his 
finger on his lips as a sign of prudence and 
silence, and whispered: “Follow me behind 
the tent ; nobody will see us there, and I have 
important matters to disclose to you.” 

Philip stepped behind the tent with the 
wretch, where the latter fell down at his feet 
and kissed the garments and feet of Philip. 

“ My lord,” said he, then, “for a long time 
I have sought for such a moment to open my 
heart to you, and at length my wish is ful- 
filled. I know you long for freedom no less 
than I do, and now it is within our grasp. I 
know perfectly the paths of the wilderness 
and the exact route to Bagdad, where your 
unfortunate parents are pining in terrible bond- 




\ 


$ 











$ 



THE BEDOUINS. 


179 


age, and once on the back of a good steed 
all the Bedouin hordes of Arabia cannot catch 
us. Free me from my fetters, which will be 
easy for you, procure us horses, and be as- 
sured that I will take you safely to Bagdad, 
and in this manner render you good for the 
harm that I have done you. Why do you 
hesitate? Why shake your head? I will 
swear a thousand oaths that I am acting in 
good faith, and that I will not deceive you !” 

“ I readily believe you, for you are as much 
interested in your freedom as I am in mine,” 
answered Philip, after a little reflection. “Yet 
I can do nothing for you nor for myself My 
word of honor binds me, which I gave to the 
bey, and nothing will move me to violate it.” 

“ Pshaw ! you are a Christian !” answered 
Leontes. “A Christian need not keep his 
promise to an unbeliever ! Resolve on some- 
thing more to your advantage !” 

“ It matters not, Christian or Turk,” said 


i8o 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


Philip, with decision. “A promise is a prom« 
ise, and when once made I would keep it with 
the worst heathen. Do not give yourself any 
vain trouble, Leontes. If I wished to flee, I 
could have done it* long ago, and that without 
you.” 

Philip was about going, but Leontes held 
him fast by his garment. Listen to me !” 
said he, pressingly and earnestly. “ I am 
aware that you are poor, since Achmet Bey 
took your money, firman and the letter of 
Pasha Ibrahim to Kara Bey, in Bagdad. 
Know, therefore, that I can make you richer 
than you have ever been — so rich that it will 
cost you but a single word to free your 
parents, which is your heart’s desire. Look 
here, but do not betray me 1 These precious 
stones, concealed in the lining of my clothes, 
and fortunately kept from the eyes of the 
robbers, I will share with you, and you can 
live in splendor the rest of your life. It is 


THE BEDOUINS. l8l 

not necessary to keep one’s promise to an 
enemy ! Flee with me, and all your desires 
will be realized ! Well ! Do you still con- 
sider after all this ?” 

“No, I do not consider,” replied Philip. 
“The temptation is truly great, but my hon- 
esty is greater. Keep your precious stones ! 
I will keep faith even with an enemy, and 
leave it with God to pity and deliver me. 
Enough, Leontes ! I wish not to hear any- 
thing further that might tempt me from the 
path of righteousness. Let us both endure 
our lot as best we can !” 

Philip turned quickly away from the tempt- 
er, stepped from behind the tent, and to his 
astonishment stood in presence of the sheik 
of the Bedouins. The sheik, with sparkling 
eye and evident admiration, gazed upon him, 
then embraced him, and tenderly pressed him 
to his bosom. 

“ Allah il Allah !” he exclaimed ; “ what a 
16 


i 82 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


noble youth you are, and what a villain is 
Leontes ! Did he not swear that he possessed 
nothing besides the five thousand piasters? 
and now he is seeking to turn you from faith- 
fulness and honesty by means of his treasures ! 
By the Prophet’s beard, he shall rue it ! Fate 
brought me to my tent at this fortunate hour. 
I was looking for the master of this treacher- 
ous rascal, and behold, I find instead a collec- 
tion of precious stones, of which you, my 
friend, are the costliest ! Enough ! Leontes, 
slave, wretch,, come, disgorge those diamonds ! 
They will be better kept by me than by you, 
for your garment will soon wear out, and you 
would lose all your treasures without their 
benefiting any one. Deliver all and conceal 
nothing, if you wish to escape the bastinado 
and the halter !” 

Leontes trembled with rage and despair 
over his lost treasures, but he did not dare to 
resist the demand of the sheik. He picked a 


THE BEDOUINS. 183 

whole handful of precious stones from his 
garments and reached them to Achmet Bey, 
who received them with rapture. 

“How did you get such treasures, you 
miserable dog ?” he inquired. “You cannot 
have earned them honestly, and hence you 
must have stolen them. Explain how you 
came in possession of them, or prepare your- 
self for the bastinado !” 

Leontes no doubt thought that as the pre- 
cious stones were lost, the story of his plunder 
was a matter of indifference. He therefore 
confessed without hesitation that he had 
taken them from a rich peddler of jewels, as 
the Bedouins were attacking the caravan. 
The man was one of the first that lost his life 
by the sword of the Bedouins. 

“ Well, I will then be his heir,” said Ach- 
met Bey ; “ and for the precious stones your 
life shall be preserved, which, however, has 
been forfeited a hundred times by your lying 


184 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

and treachery. But you shall remain a slave, 
for you have not deserved a better fate. 
Follow me, Philip; we two have a word to 
speak together.” 

Achmet Bey led the youth into his tent, 
told him to sit down at his side, and for a 
long time gazed on him with silent admira- 
tion. At length he said : “ By Allah and the 
blessed Prophet, I begin to feel respect for 
the Christians, the unbelieving dogs ! If half 
of them were only as true, as honest, as brave, 
and as virtuous as you are ! See, Philip, half 
of these precious jewels shall be yours if you 
will remain and be my brother. I only ask 
your promise, and you can take what you 
like !” 

"‘I cannot, Achmet Bey!” replied Philip. 
“You well know what sacred duty forbids me 
to be your brother. I have promised to my- 
self and others, and I have vowed in the 
presence of God, to free my parents, and, be- 


THE BEDOUINS. 185 

hold, I will as little break my word in regard 
to my parents as I have in regard to you. I 
cannot become your brother with the condi- 
tion that I remain here !” 

“ Well, then, neither shall you be a slave !” 
exclaimed Achmet, and locked Philip in his 
arms. “ Go, then, and ransom your parents 
and perform your vow ! Of course, we will 
have to purchase your freedom, for my author- 
ity over those belonging to my tribe is not so 
great as to liberate you without a price for 
your liberty ; but Allah has provided, and the 
price is at hand. These precious stones will 
suffice to pave your way to Bagdad, and I 
will return to you the sultan’s firman and the 
letter of Ibrahim to Kara Bey. To-morrow 
you shall be on your way to Bagdad !” 

Whilst Philip gave way to his joy over the 
unlooked-for turn of things, Achmet Bey 
hastened to assemble the warriors of his tribe, 

and after relating the occurrences of the day, 
16 * 


l86 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

all, without an exception, were in favor of 
letting Philip go free. Not only so, but they 
voted to bestow on him a horse and arms, 
and to accompany him to the bounds of the 
desert, whence he could easily and without 
danger reach Bagdad, the aim of his longing. 
The sheik informed his prot%e of this reso- 
lution, who wept tears of joy over the news, 
whilst Leontes gnashed his teeth for rage 
over the fortune of' the hated Greek. It was 
well for Philip that the decision of his lot did 
not depend on Leontes, but on the wild sons 
of the desert, who, however rude and bar- 
barous, were not without some feeling of pity 
and humanity. 

Philip, in the joy of his unexpected fortune, 
hardly closed his eyes in slumber. In his 
tent he kneeled in prayer, thanking God for 
his aid in need, again and again thanking 
him, the Almighty, because he had softened 
the hearts of the ungovernable Arabs, and 


THE BEDOUINS. 


187 


imploring him for continued grace. After he 
had poured forth his whole heart before God, 
he reclined upon his hard couch and sank 
into a short, uneasy sleep. The first 
glimmer of the dawn wakened him. He 
sprang up and hastened into Achmet’s tent. 
He too was already awake and bade him wel- 
come. He delivered him the sultan’s firman, 
Ibrahim’s letter, and presented him besides 
with a handful of piasters, that he might not 
suffer want on the road. Then he com- 
manded a fleet steed to be brought, embraced 
his protege for the last time, and helped him 
to mount. 

Farewell,” said he, ^^and Allah accom- 
pany you ! We will not forget you ; your 
firm faithfulness will long live in the memory 
of the sons of the desert. Wonderfully has 
it been ordered by Allah that the man who 
betrayed you should be the occasion of your 
freedom! Thus Allah punishes the wicked 


i88 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


and rewards the good! Go, and may your 
courser carry you to your destination on the 
wings of the wind 1” 

A sign from the sheik, and the noble coal- 
black animal on which Philip sat dashed 
away over the sand of the desert with the 
speed of a storm. There was scarcely time 
given to the liberated youth to address a last 
word of farewell to Achmet before he was 
far from the tents and huts of the Bedouins. 
A little troop followed him as a protection 
•against the attack of any other Arab tribe. 
They had pleasant intercourse with Philip 
till they reached the limit of the desert. 
Here they halted, shook his hand warmly, 
wished him Allah’s blessing on his journey, 
and then rode back through the desert with 
the fleetness of the wind. Philip looked 
back after them so long as he could see their 
gleaming weapons and the cloud of dust 
which rolled up from their horses’ hoofs. 


THE BEDOUINS. 189 

As the last trace disappeared he said : 
“Thanks be to thee, my God! Hitherto 
hast thou helped me out of great need ; assist 
me still further by thy mighty power! If 
thou art with me, with thy blessing the work 
cannot fail !” 

He seized the reins, turned the steed in the 
direction of Bagdad, and with quiet, heart- 
felt joy and hope, hastened on his way. 
Brighter than ever did the great aim of his 
life appear in the visions of hope ; more con- 
fident than ever did he cherish the sweet 
and blessed assurance that in spite of all 
difficulties he would yet reach his parents 
and set the captives free. 



> 



CHAPTER IX. 

BITTi:R DISAPPOINTMENTS. 

“ I will not leave you comfortlessP 

FTERr many days of dangers, Philip 



finally reached Bagdad, and hastened 
through the long, winding streets toward a 
caravansary, where he hoped to find shelter 
for the time being. His heart beat violently 
as he anxiously looked into the face of every 
one he met, in the faint hope of discovering 
the known and beloved features which were 
so indelibly impressed on his memory. But 
the j^eople in the streets were all strangers, 
caring nothing for the youth whose heart was 
so full of hope and care. He had at last 
reached the goal of his aspiration, and in a 


190 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENTS. I9I 

few hours he would learn whether his parents 
were alive, whether they remembered him, 
and whether he would succeed in leading 
them out of misery and slavery to fortune 
and liberty. 

Arrived at the caravansary, he first cared 
for his horse, then stepping into the hall, he 
inquired for some person who could inform 
him about Mustafa. He met no one but an 
old Turk of an earnest and dignified counte- 
nance, who sat on a cushion in a corner of 
the hall, smoking his pipe and sipping his 
coffee, at the same time observing the throng 
and bustle of the people, who were busily 
passing up and down the street before the 
caravansary. Philip saluted the Turk with 
the customary Salem aleikum — peace be 
with you,” seated himself by his side, and 
inquired, with a throbbing heart, whether he 
was acquainted with Mustafa Kodosi, or 
knew where he lived. 


192 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

Mustafa Kodosi, my son ?” inquired the 
Turk as he kindly observed the youth — “ Mus- 
tafa Kodosi, the merchant ? What can your 
business be with him ? I know him well ; he is 
a rich, old, stingy dog, and everybody shuns 
him. Be careful you are not cheated if you 
have any dealings with him.” 

“ Yes, I have important business with him,” 
replied Philip, “but I do not think he will 
cheat me. Can you tell me, sir, where I can 
find him ?” 

“ He resides on this street, in the house 
with the balcony, not very far from here,” 
said the Turk. “ I again warn you ! He has 
a bad character in Bagdad on account of his 
avarice and selfishness; therefore take care!” 

Philip scarcely heard the well-meant warn- 
ing of the Turk, but thanked him for the in- 
formation and hastened away to look up 
Mustafa, and, above all things, to hear 
whether his dear parents were still living. 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENTS. I93 

Breathless from the rapid walk and mental 
anxiety, he reached the house with the bal- 
cony, stepped in and inquired of a servant 
whom he met whether Mustafa could be seen. 

^*The master is on a journey,” answered 
the servant, to the great disappointment of 
Philip, but immediately added : “ We expect 
him back to-morrow or the day after.” 

Well, I will return then,” said Philip. “ In 
the mean time, my friend, you can tell me 
whether your master owns two Greek slaves, 
a man and woman, whom he brought from 
Candia some eleven or twelve years ago ?” 

“Master has many slaves,” answered the 
servant. “ How can I tell whether there are 
Greeks among them ? But it is likely.” 

“ I entreat you to inquire about it,” Philip 
begged, with great earnestness. “It would 
add much to my happiness if I knew whether 
those slaves are yet alive.” 

How should I know ?” spoke the servant. 

17 N 


194 the GREEK SLAVE. 

“ I have no time to listen to you and to in- 
quire after slaves. They are all dogs ! Go, 
and return when the master is at home ! He 
will give you the information ; I must shake 
these carpets ! Leave, my friend !” 

In vain did Philip urge the unfeeling fellow 
to grant this favor. The servant showed him 
the way out and closed the door behind him. 
Philip went away sad, painfully affected by 
the servant’s incivility and the disappoint- 
ment of his hopes, that were again deferred, 
and was about to return to the caravansary. 
On the way it occurred to him that mean- 
while he might go to Kara Bey and deliver 
him Pasha Ibrahim’s letter. No doubt Kara 
Bey was acquainted with the merchant Mus- 
tafa, and Philip hoped that the pasha’s friend 
would assist him not only with money, but 
also with good counsels. He therefore in- 
quired of the first person he met for the resi- 
dence of Kara Bey, who of course must be 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENTS. I95 

known in all Bagdad as a distinguished 
citizen. 

“ Kara Bey !” answered the one addressed ; 
** I do not know.” Philip asked a number ; 
none could tell him; till finally a man of 
whom he made inquiry looked at him won- 
deringly and replied ; 

Why do you ask after the dead ? Kara 
Bey is dead ; he was buried a year since.” 

This intelligence was like a clap of thunder 
to Philip. He could scarcely remain stand- 
ing, and the young man, at other times so 
courageous, seemed paralyzed. If Kara Bey 
was really dead and buried, what was poor 
Philip to do ? Far from home, in a strange 
city, where he had neither friend nor acquain- 
tance, stripped of his money, poor and for- 
saken, how could he ever see and liberate 
his parents ? Where should he get his daily 
bread ? The horse from Achmet Bey and a 
few piasters were all his earthly possessions. 


196 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

To have come all this long and dangerous 
journey, and yet after all unable to do any- 
thing for his needy and suffering parents ! 
The beautiful dream of his youth vanished ; 
all his hopes disappointed ; helpless and with- 
out means in a strange land ; — what condition 
could be more disheartening than that of the 
poor and disconsolate Philip ? 

It was some time before he recovered from 
the depression of this gloomy state of things. 
At last he took another view of the matter 
and was again hopeful. Might not the man 
who gave him the sad news be mistaken? 
Might there not be more than one Kara Bey 
in Bagdad ? Might not the one he was look- 
ing for be still living ? He composed him- 
self and inquired again about Kara Bey. He 
asked at least ten or twenty persons, but 
received no other information than ‘‘Kara 
Bey is dead, and there is no other of that 
name in Bagdad.” 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENTS. I97 

Philip, disconsolate and hopeless, returned 
to the caravansary which a short time before 
he had left in such buoyant spirits. The 
old Turk who had directed him to Mustafa 
still sat in the corner smoking his pipe ; but 
Philip, overcome by his misfortune, did not 
see him, and looking for the darkest corner 
of the hall, sank to the floor, buried his face 
in his hands and wept — wept as if his heart 
would break. 

Never before had he felt so utterly helpless 
and forsaken. All his previous sufferings he 
had borne with patience and resignation, for 
he had never despaired, with God’s help, of 
ultimate success. But now, when he thought 
himself so near his father and mother, a 
greater chasm opened between them and him 
than when he roamed in the forests of Candia, 
separated by seas and continents. It was 
more than he could bear. His heart, once so 
full of courage in the face of the greatest 

17 * 


198 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

trials and difficulties, and so cheerful with 
pious hope in the darkest hour, was now cast 
down into the depths of despair. 

The aged Turk, who had noticed the en- 
trance of the unhappy youth into the hall, 
observed him with looks and gestures which 
expressed an honest interest and the deepest 
sympathy. He saw how he trembled with 
anguish, he heard his convulsive moans, and 
then noticed that, wringing his hands, he fell 
upon his knees and lifted his weeping eyes 
to heaven. 

The youth, in his agony, was engaged in 
prayer, looking to God for help and comfort. 
The old Turk was in the act of rising to offer 
him comfort and assistance, but leaned back 
again upon his pillow, murmuring some un- 
intelligible words to himself. Shortly after 
he brought his cushion, and seating himself 
at the side of Philip, touched him gently 
with the tip of his pipe. Philip, overcome 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENTS. I99 

With grief, had not noticed the approach of 
the Turk, and looked up surprised and be- 
wildered. 

** If Allah sends tribulation, we should bear 
it patiently, my son,” said the old man. 

Why do you weep and lament in this way ? 
No pain is so great that Allah cannot soften. 
But I have noticed that you are not a follower 
of the Prophet, but a Christian. How is it ? 
Is your religion so weak that it has no con- 
solation for the suffering ?” 

Philip shuddered with convulsive grief and 
shook his head. ** Ah, if you knew what I 
suffer, you would not speak as you do !” re- 
plied he. “I am of all men the most un- 
happy ! My heart is crushed, and there is no 
end to my anguish.” 

“ Still you should not despair and act like 
a madman,” answered the Turk, with kindly 
feeling. ** The hand which wounds the heart 
can heal it. If your* cheek is pale with sor* 


200 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


row, Allah can make it glow again. Who 
are you, that you should doubt Allah’s 
mighty power? Has he not already pitied 
you in sending you a friend who takes an in- 
terest in your fate ?” 

“A friend!” exclaimed Philip. “Alas, I 
have no friend, and they who wish me well 
are far distant !” 

“ Well, then you do not see that I am at 
your side and that I am your friend ?” said 
the Turk. “Indeed, do not doubt! I sym- 
pathize with you ! Tell me why you are so 
cast down, and perhaps Allah will appoint 
me to be your helper. Speak frankly and 
fearlessly, for I am truly interested in you.” 

The aged Turk spoke so cordially and 
kindly that Philip could not resist' his affec- 
tionate appeal, but related to him in few 
words what trouble had come upon him. At 
the conclusion of his narrative he again burst 
into tears, whilst the Turk, without chiding 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENTS. 201 


him any more, was absorbed in silent thought. 
At last he said : 

“ Be calm, my friend ! Though I cannot 
promise to free your parents, yet I promise to 
make the attempt. Do not lose all hope, but 
take fresh courage. Be patient till Mustafa 
returns from his journey. I am somewhat 
acquainted with him, and I will accompany 
you and speak a word for you. He may not 
be altogether hardened by avarice. Perhaps 
your filial devotion will touch him as it did 
me, and move him to free your parents with- 
out even asking a price for them. If not, 
then there is one more hope. Mark, I am 
not wealthy. I am only a servant of a rich 
youth, who has a heart like that of an angel. 
If he were here, I would go to him and relate 
the story of your life, and I am sure he would 
interest himself in you. At present he is 
away, and I cannot say when he will return.^ 
But in all probability he will soon be back. 


202 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


and then I will speak to him. Be of good 
courage! He will assist you, and you will 
hear of him if you should need his aid. Do 
not leave this caravansary. I will come daily 
and look after you. Hope and be cheerful I 
Allah never forsakes those who put their 
trust in him !’" 

With these words the Turk rose, shook 
the ashes from his pipe and left the caravan- 
sary. Philip looked after him thoughtfully. 
Should he believe the man and hope for his 
aid ? He had spoken so earnestly, and yet in 
tones so kind and gentle. Truly, God again 
was near in his deepest sadness, and had sent 
him a friend when he was friendless and a 
stranger in a foreign land. 

^‘Oh what little faith I have!’' exclaimed 
Philip, as he kneeled in prayer. ^‘Oh how 
weak and foolish to doubt and tremble! 
Forgive me, O God, that I despaired of thy 
presence and help! Forgive me that my 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENTS. 2O3 

soul was SO cast down and my heart so full 
of fear and anxiety ! Henceforth I will rely 
on thee as on a firm support, and never de- 
spair, however great my necessity may be !'* 
Thus Philip prayed, and as the night melts 
before the rising sun, so the darkness of his 
sorrow vanished as he turned his soul to 
Jesus, the Sun of righteousness, “who hath 
given us everlasting consolation and good 
hope through grace.” 




CHAPTER X. 

REUNION. 

O EVERAL days passed without any 
^ change in Philip’s situation. Daily he 
went to Mustafa’s house to ask whether he 
had come back from his journey, and daily 
did kind Hassan pass a few hours with him 
in conversation ; always careful to quicken the 
hope of the youth and to comfort him with 
the prospect of a happy issue out of all his 
troubles. Yet it was very difficult for poor 
Philip to overcome his intense longing to see 
his parents, of whom he had no intelligence ; 
not knowing even whether they were yet 
among the living, though he was so nigh to 
their master’s house. 

204 


REUNION. 


205 


At last, after eight days’ waiting, he saw 
what, to his expectant anxiety, was full of 
promise. From his caravansary he beheld a 
small train of camels, laden with bundles and 
various wares, stop before Mustafa’s house. 
He hastened thither, and learned, to his great 
delight, that Mustafa had returned. He did 
not see him, but the servants who unpacked 
the camels imparted the joyful news; then 
with a lighter heart he returned to the cara- 
vansary to await the arrival of his friend 
Hassan. His impatience to see him was so 
great that he would gladly have hastened to 
him, but he knew neither his residence nor 
the name of his master. Hassan had told 
him neither the one nor the other, so that he 
had to wait patiently till his friend came at 
the usual hour. 

“ Mustafa is back !” cried Philip to him. 

He came three hours ago.” 

“See how wonderful that happens!” re- 
18 


206 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


plied Hassan, smiling. “ My young master 
has also come to-day, and if Mustafa is not 
humane and merciful, then will we look in 
another direction. Come, then, and let us 
hear what he says.” 

Philip needed no second invitation. With 
rapid strides he hurried on to Mustafa’s house, 
making it difficult for Hassan to keep at his 
side. 

Easy, my boy, gently !” said he to Philip. 

Control your feelings as much as you can. 
Allah and Mohammed, how your cheeks 
glow and your eyes flash ! Why your heart 
beats as though it would leap from your body ! 
Master your feelings, my son, and do not be 
so ardent in your hopes, lest you should be 
too much cast down if you should be disap- 
pointed. Especially, do you keep silent be- 
fore Mustafa and let me speak. As soon as 
he perceives that you are bent on freeing his 
slaves, he will raise his price so high that 


REUNION. 207 

even my young master might not be able to 
satisfy his demand. Therefore control your- 
self. Prudence was never more needed than 
at this moment.” 

Philip endeavored to conceal his intense 
emotion, and the thought of the important 
business before them gave him a composure 
that satisfied even the prudential demands of 
Hassan. And yet, when they came to the 
door of Mustafa’s house, Hassan seemed to 
hesitate, saying : Listen ; in the end it might 
be better if you would let me go alone to 
Mustafa. Wait out here till I return.” 

** No, oh no !” answered Philip, with deep 
feeling. “ Let me go along, or this impatient 
longing will kill me ! Do not fear ; not a 
glance nor gesture shall betray to Mustafa that 
I am the child of his slaves till the moment 
when it is proper to make myself known to 
them.” 

** Well, then, follow me,” said Hassan, after 


208 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


a little deliberation. “ Take care not to let 
him notice who you are before the time. 
Mustafa is a cunning fox, and before we speak 
of you he must first set a price on his slaves, 
that he may not afterward overcharge us. 
Silence and patience now, my son !” 

Philip having promised not to lose his 
self-possession, they now entered the house. 
Hassan asked a servant to conduct him 
immediately to the master of the house, 
and his stately bearing was sufficient to se- 
cure better treatment than Phijip had received 
on a former occasion. The servant accom- 
panied them into the chamber of his master, 
who with affected kindness welcomed Hassan, 
with whom he was well acquainted. The 
usual compliments were exchanged, ottomans 
and pipes were brought, hot coffee in small 
cups was handed to the guests, and then, 
after all these ceremonies were over, after the 
usual tediousness of the Mussulmans, Mustafa 


REUNION. 209 

inquired what his worthy and honored guest 
desired. 

I come on a novel business/’ said Hassan, 
with a quiet voice and modest demeanor, 
whilst Philip was trembling at his side with 
anxiety and excitement, alternately pale and 
red, without the presence of mind to envelop 
himself in thick clouds of smoke from his 
tschibuk^ and thus to screen himself from the 
searching glances of Mustafa. “Yes, on 
novel business,” repeated Hassan. “ My 
master, who has returned safe and victorious 
from the battle with the rebels, has vowed 
from gratitude to Allah to ransom a few 
Christian slaves, and has commissioned me to 
look them up in Bagdad.” 

“Allah il Allah, this is wonderful!” ex- 
claimed Mustafa. “Who would think of 
showing favor to Christian dogs 1” 

“ No matter,” said Hassan. “ There is no 

accounting for tastes. My master has willed 
18 * 0 


210 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


it and I must obey. I heard, Mustafa, that 
you own several of them.” 

‘'Well, yes, I have several such dogs,” 
answered Mustafa. 

“Well, are you disposed to sell them?” 
asked Hassan. 

“ If I receive the price that I paid for them, 
why should I not?” replied Mustafa. “You 
see that I ought not to suffer loss to gratify a 
whim of your master.” 

“Not so quick, Mustafa,” said Hassan, 
slowly. “A slave that you bought ten or 
fifteen years ago cannot by any means be 
worth what you paid for him at that time. 
Say, how many of these giaours (infidels) do 
you own ?” 

“Well, only two, a man and a woman,” 
answered Mustafa, hesitatingly. “But they 
are very valuable. I never had better work- 
ers. By Allah and the Prophet, I can hardly 
make up my mind to part with them !” 


REUNION. 


211 


**Ask him, I pray you, what their names 
are and whence they came,” whispered Philip, 
in a low and tremulous tone, and wellnigh 
fainting. 

Silence !” whispered Hassan, as he pressed 
Philip’s hand. Not another word, or else 
we will lose every advantage. Mustafa is 
noticing you.” 

“ What does your companion wish ?” asked 
the merchant, who was watching the youth 
very closely. 

Pshaw! nothing,” coldly answered Has- 
san. He thinks it is not likely the intention 
of my master to buy women, but only men. 
He may be right. I will inquire. I remem- 
ber now that my master did not say anything 
to me about women. It is well, my son, that 
you reminded me of it.” 

“ Why not women ?” cried Mustafa, thor- 
oughly off the track. “Women also are 
slaves ! A slave is a slave I Be reasonable, 


212 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


my friend ; it will make no difference to your 
master whether he ransoms a man or a 
woman, and you will find me fair.” 

“ Well, we will see,” answered Hassan, in- 
differently, puffing his pipe. “ What kind of 
slaves are they?” he continued. “Where 
did you buy them ? Are they young or old ? 
And from what country ?” 

“ They are Greeks,” said Mustafa. “ Some 
eleven or twelve years ago I bought them on 
the island of Candia for eight hundred pias- 
ters. The man’s name is Messaros, the 
woman’s, Helen.” 

A suppressed exclamation escaped Philip’s 
lips, and if it had cost his life, he could not 
have kept it back. Then his father and 
mother were both alive, and he was under 
the same roof with them ! His heart bounded 
with rapture, and he might have committed a 
still greater blunder if Hassan had not warned 
him with an earnest glance. 


REUNION. 213 

** What is the matter with the young man ?” 
inquired Mustafa, becoming suspicious. 

Pshaw ! nothing,” calmly answered Has- 
san, as before. “ He is himself from Candia, 
and as you well know, my friend, the young 
are impulsive. But to come back to your 
slaves : they are old and decrepit, and you 
have had eleven or twelve years’ work out of 
them. I know very well that you do not 
spare your slaves.” 

Mustafa replied: *‘You are mistaken, my 
friend. By Allah and the Prophet, I never 
had better slaves ! They are yet robust and 
in their best years — only thirty odd years of 
age. The woman perhaps may look a little 
pale, but she will soon recover when free. 
They are still worth a thousand piasters.” 

A thousand piasters !” said Hassan, mock- 
ingly. “By the Prophet, you are bold at 
asking ! The half of that would be too much 
for my master. At any rate, six hundred 


214 the GREEK SLAVE. 

piasters would be the most that he would 
give.” 

Tell him to let them come in that we may 
see them,” whispered Philip to his friend. 
“ Oh have pity on me! Let me just see their 
faces one moment 1” 

“No, no; be quiet!” answered Hassan. 
“Not another word or all is lost! Well, 
Mustafa” — he again turned to the merchant 
— “ how is it? Six hundred piasters for both, 
and not a para more.” 

“No, by Allah, that is too little!” ex- 
claimed Mustafa. “ First look at them, and 
then make your offer. I will have them 
called. A thousand piasters! a thousand! 
one thousand ! Not a para less !” 

“ Enough !” coldly replied Hassan. “ Mus- 
tafa wishes to keep his slaves, and we do not 
wish to press him further. Likely there are 
other Christian slaves in Bagdad. Come, 
my son.” 


REUNION. 


215 


“Stop! Do not leave!” cried Mustafa, 
who began to fear that a good bargain would 
slip through his fingers. First see them, 
and then we will speak more about it! 
Hallo, Abdallah, bring those two giaours in !” 

“No, I do not wish to see them!” said 
Hassan, resolutely. ** I see we can’t bargain. 
My master will not pay more than six hun- 
dred piasters. Allah be with you, Mustafa ! 
Farewell!” 

“Well, take them at six hundred!” said 
the merchant, deceived by the firmness and 
determination of Hassan. “ Better take some- 
thing than nothing.” 

“Well!” replied Hassan. “I have your 
offer, and to-morrow you shall have mine. 
You see, I must speak with my master before 
I can conclude the trade. Perhaps six hun- 
dred piasters will be too high for him. I 
spoke too fast in making that offer.” 

“No, no!” cried Mustafa. ^‘The bargain 


2i6 the GREEK SLAVE. 

is made ! You shall have them at six hun- 
dred! Friend, you will not now wish to 
back out ?” 

I will do my utmost. Six hundred pias- 
ters then. Be it so.” 

“ Yes, six hundred,” said Mustafa. “ That 
is giving them away by half. But no matter ; 
a promise is a promise, and though I lose by 
it, I will not break my word 1” 

“Yes, yes!” replied Hassan. “Spare your 
words ! You will be driving a good bargain. 
But enough ! Philip, let us go.” 

Philip either did not hear or did not wish 
to. “ Have pity !” he implored. “ Only let 
me cast one glance, just one, on them ! Ask 
Mustafa to bring the slaves before you !” 

“ No ; be quiet and follow me !” answered 
Hassan. “ I swear it by the beard of the 
Prophet that your parents will gain their 
liberty, since I know that Mustafa is satisfied 
with six hundred piasters. I am well ac- 


REUNION. 


217 


quainted with my master ; his heart is good, 
and he will give six hundred piasters cheer- 
fully. Patience and self-possession! To- 
morrow they shall be free ! Follow me 1” 
Sighing, Philip resigned himself to neces- 
sity, and was just about to follow Hassan, 
when suddenly a man and woman following a 
servant of Mustafa entered the room and 
humbly bowed before Mustafa. 

“ Ah, here are the slaves !” said he, for he 
had secretly given his servant Abdallah a 
sign to bring them into the apartment. In- 
spect them, friend, and judge if you have not 
made a good purchase.” 

Philip stood a moment as if paralyzed. 
The sudden appearance of his father and 
mother overcame him. Even Hassan lost his 
presence of mind for an instant, and compos- 
ing himself quickly, turned to Philip, but it 
was too late. With the exclamation, “ My 
father, my mother!” he leaped forward and 

19 


2I8 


THE GREEK SLAVE, 


fell at the feet of his parents, clasping their 
knees; then rising, he was folded in their 
arms, and soon forgot all that was passing 
about him in the loving embrace. Mustafa 
smiled contemptuously and mumbled : 

My suspicion was right. By Allah, the 
lad resembled the woman very much, and 
now I will see if I cannot get a better price 
for the Christian dogs !” 

“All is lost!” said Hassan to himself. 
“The unhappy youth 1 why did he not mind 
me? Now Mustafa will demand a price that 
the grand seignor will hardly be able to pay ! 
Wretched boy! Alas, I must not scold or 
condemn him, for the temptation was too 
strong for him !” 

Philip and his parents, meanwhile, had no 
thought or feeling beyond the rapture of the 
moment. They lay in each other’s arms and 
wept for joy. Their happiness was so great 
that they forgot everything else. 


REUNION. 


219 


** Enough!” Hassan finally said, and laid 
his hand on the shoulder of his young friend. 

Let us go, and to-morrow you shall see 
your parents again. Friend Mustafa, our 
bargain is closed.” 

**Not so,” he answered, sneeringly. 
have come to another conclusion. Tell your 
master he may buy slaves where he can, that 
mine are not for sale. Go, go, you wished 
to deceive me! You are a sly fox, but you 
did not remember that Mustafa is the father 
of foxes ! By the beard of the Prophet, these 
slaves shall remain mine unless you pay me 
ten times my offer ! Ten thousand piasters, 
friend ! Not a para less !” 

Well, then you will get nothing at all,” 
coldly replied Hassan. *‘This youth, who 
has discovered his parents, is poor. I too 
possess nothing, and trusted to the magnan- 
imity of my master when I offered you six 
hundred piasters for your slaves. Generous 


220 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


as he is, he will never consent to such an ex- 
orbitant demand. Oh, Mustafa, does it not 
touch your heart as you look on this stripling 
and these slaves who are his parents? To 
obtain their freedom he has undergone dan- 
gers and sufferings of all sorts; has defied 
death and the terrors of the desert ; and now, 
when he has reached the end, can you be 
insensible to such filial devotion and heroic 
sacrifice? Mustafa, give your slaves for a 
moderate price, and Allah’s blessing will rest 
on your head !” 

''You are a fool!” retorted Mustafa. 
" What do I care for the Christian dog? Now 
if he were a true believer 1 Go, go I Ten 
thousand piasters! If you bring that sum, 
you can take the slaves ; otherwise, spare your 
words !” 

"Alas, everything is lost!” said Hassan, 
with true grief. "My master cannot do so 
much for a stranger who is not of his creed. 


REUNION. 


221 


Six hundred piasters, yes, perhaps ; but not 
so many thousands ! It is folly to think of 
it. Come, poor Philip, we have nothing more 
to do here.” 

Mustafa clearly perceived that Hassan was 
now speaking freely and honestly, and he was 
too greedy to lose such a bargain. “Pa- 
tience,” said he, cunningly, to Hassan. “ The 
youth then loves his parents exceedingly ?” 

“ Ask him,” said Hassan. 

Mustafa tore poor Philip from his happy 
dream on the bosom of his parents, and 
inquired of him whether he was really 
ready to do something for the ransom of his 
parents. 

“Everything!” exclaimed the youth, ar- 
dently. 

“Well, then,” said Mustafa, “if you bring 
me six hundred piasters, and become my 
slave in place of your parents, they may re- 
turn free to their home. But you must remain 
19 * 


222 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


in my service for life. That is my last offer. 
I have spoken.” 

“ Take me ! here am I !” exclaimed Philip, 
quickly. “ I would offer a thousand lives for 
my dear father and mother; why not my free- 
dom ? They have suffered enough, and it is 
time that I should take my turn! Depart, 
dear parents ! You are free, and Pasha Ibra- 
him of Candia will care for you, since I 
cannot !” 

“ Who did you say would care for them ?” 
suddenly exclaimed Hassan. “Pasha Ibra- 
him of Candia? The same Ibrahim who is 
at present Pasha of Rumelien ? Ha ! what a 
fool I was not to have thought of it sooner I 
Enough, Philip ! Follow me instantly 1” 

“ No, no ; I prefer sharing their slavery, 
and to lighten, at least, the weight of their 
chains, which I am not able to break 1” 

“ Be it so. Remain then,” answered Has- 
san. “What I am to do I can do without 


REUNION. 223 

you. Farewell, my son ; you will soon hear 
from me.’* 

Hassan left the house without one word of 
farewell to the crafty Mustafa. Philip neither 
held him back nor accompanied him. What- 
ever might be his destiny in the future, for 
the moment he was happy in the embraces of 
his long-sought parents. 




s 


CHAPTER XI. 

A FRIEND IN NEED. 

N the morning after the happy reunion 



Hassan went earlier than usual to his 
young master, who, as was his wont, re- 
ceived him kindly. 

“ What do you bring me, Hassan ?” he in- 
quired. 

A wonderful story, master !” replied Has- 
san. 

“ Relate it then,” said the handsome young 
Turk. He listened with increasing interest 
to the story of his servant. Hassan pictured 
as fully as he was able the past history of 
his young friend Philip, just as he had heard 
it from his lips. He described how Philip 


224 



A FRIEND IN NEED. 225 

was separated in early youth from his 
parents, who had been sold to Bagdad ; how 
Philip, with unspeakable longing, had always 
remembered them and never could forget 
them; how too a high-born Turk in Candia 
— ^by chance the Turk’s name had never been 
mentioned in the conversations between Philip 
and Hassan — had taken an interest in him, 
furnished him with money, a firman and a let- 
ter to Kara Bey in Bagdad, and finally had sent 
him by ship to Asia to free his parents from 
bondage. 

Allah il Allah !” suddenly interrupted the 
listening youth ; “ what did you say, Hassan ? 
Why you are relating the history of my 
friend and preserver, Philip Messaros ! It is 
he of whom you are speaking ! It cannot be 
otherwise ! Go on, go on ! What has hap- 
pened him ?” 

was thinking so, indeed I was!” said 

Hassan, with a satisfied smile, and reported 

p 


226 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


further how he had formed the acquaintance of 
the youth, and had accompanied him to Mus- 
tafa ; how he there met the parents of the lad, 
who boldly resolved to sacrifice his freedom 
for theirs. On this occasion Philip had men- 
tioned the name of Ibrahim, and therefore he 
knew that the aforementioned noble Turk 
was none else than the present Pasha of Ru- 
melien, the father of Achmet, his young 
master. 

‘‘ It is so, it is so !” exclaimed Achmet as 
he sprang from his pillowed cushions and 
began to pace the room. “It is Philip, my 
unfortunate friend ! I thought he had found 
his parents long ago ! How could I suspect 
that he had fallen into the hands of the Bed- 
ouins ? Kara Bey had died before we came 
here, hence I could learn nothing from him. 
We left Candia soon after our unfortunate 
friend, on account of the rebellion of the 
Asiatic province, and it is not strange, there- 


A FRIEND IN NEED. 22/ 

fore, that I did not hear anything of his fate. 
But, thanks be to Allah, he is found and he 
shall be saved ! Take all my treasure, Has- 
san, and ransom him ! Spare no money ! 
Throw it down without counting! Philip 
saved my life, and he shall not find me un- 
grateful ! Hassan, Hassan, why did you not 
tell me sooner that Philip was here ?” 

“How could I?” replied the faithful ser- 
vant. “I did not know that he was your 
friend. He never mentioned your name ; he 
never boasted that he had saved you from 
great peril ; he never mentioned the name of 
Pasha Ibrahim I Besides, you returned only 
yesterday, and I have not been your servant 
long enough to know the particulars of your 
past history. Therefore pardon me, master, 
for I am not to blame.” 

“ That is true,” said Achmet. “ But let us 
not lose a moment. Philip and his poor 
parents must be freed, if I must give all my 


228 


THE GREEK SLAVE. 


possessions. Come ! Lead me to Mustafa ! 
I am anxious to see again the noble youth !” 

Hassan was ready to obey this command 
immediately, but begged his master not to 
take part in the conversation with Mustafa, 
but allow him to conduct it himself 

“ I understand the rascal,” said he, “ and if 
Philip had only controlled himself, he and his 
parents would now be free. If Mustafa dis- 
covers that you take a deep interest in him, 
his demands will be extravagant. We must 

try to avoid that, and therefore I beg you, 

♦ 

master, to place the whole matter in my 
hands.” 

“ By Allah and the Prophet, I will allow 
you to have your own way ; but do not delay 
any longer !” impatiently exclaimed Achmet. 
“ Let us go, quick !” 

“Well, well!” said Hassan. “But first 
throw a common garment over your magnif- 
icent one. Mustafa must not suspect that 


A FRIEND IN NEED. 


229 


you come in person to ransom your friend. 
He is a sly fox, and we must use some dis- 
cretion.” 

Achmet placed sufficient confidence in 
Hassan’s discretion to follow his suggestion, 
and put on a cloak which entirely covered 
his splendid raiment, thickly set with gold 
and jewels. Thus he accompanied his ser- 
vant to Mustafa’s residence and demanded 
admittance. 

It was a long while before they saw Mus- 
tafa. Abdallah, the servant of the avaricious 
merchant, had evidently received special in- 
structions concerning Hassan, for he tried to 
put him off with various excuses. First he 
said Mustafa was yet napping; then that he 
had started on a journey; then that he was 
sick ; till Hassan, out of patience, pushed the 
fellow aside, and, with Achmet, pressed into 
the house and room of Mustafa. The latter 

looked at Hassan with indignation. 

20 


230 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

What do you want ?” he insolently asked 
him. Were you not told that I did not wish 
to see anybody ? Get out of my house !” 

“ Not exactly, friend,” replied Hassan, 
coldly. “ First we will speak of my young 
friend Philip and his parents ; after that I will 
not molest you. I pray you, let the slaves 
and their son come in.” 

“ What slaves ? what son ?” answered Mus- 
tafa, with affected surprise. “ Who are you, 
that you inquire after my slaves ? I do not 
know you ! Go and leave my house, or I 
will call the kadi to relieve me of your 
presence !” 

“What!” exclaimed Hassan. “You do 
not know me ? By the beard of the Prophet, 
I call that impudence I Friend, consider, and 
make no delay. Let Philip, my friend, in- 
stantly appear, or I will accuse you to the 
kadi I” 

“Shameless fellow, who are you then?” 


A FRIEND IN NEED. 23 1 

roared Mustafa. “And who is your Philip? 
I know of no Philip ! Away, away with you !” 

“What! You know of no Philip!” said 
Hassan. “ Verily, this looks like a game at 
kidnapping! What! You wish to deny 
that I was here yesterday with Philip, the 
Greek, to free his parents ?” 

“Yes, I deny it!” retorted Mustafa, de- 
fiantly. 

“ And do you further deny that Philip re- 
mained in your house ?” 

“ Certainly I deny that !” vociferated Mus- 
tafa. “You are an impudent fellow! Away 
with you, or I will call my servants to basti- 
nado you !” 

“ Aha ! aha !” again exclaimed Hassan. 
“ This is certainly blustering, by Allah ! Have 
you not learned that kidnapping in this coun- 
try is punished with the rope ? Do you not 
know that you will be hung if I call the 
kadi ?” 


232 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

“Call him!” retorted Mustafa, scornfully. 
“ The kadi is my friend I But you — who are 
you ? Yourself a miserable slave ! Away 
with you 1 Be off, and never let yourself be 
seen again in my house !” ^ 

“ Enough !” said Hassan, and turned to his 
young master. “The knave has delivered 
himself into our power, and there is need of 
no further concealment. Did I not tell you, 
master, that this fellow is a sly fox? He 
denies all about your friend, in order that he 
may keep him as a slave like his parents. 
He imagines that he may do so without pun- 
ishment, because he considers me too weak 
to injure him or to vindicate the truth. But 
see, the fox has caught himself in his own 
snare. The kadi might have protected him, 
but the Pasha of Bagdad will aid the son of 
the Pasha of Rumelien. Dog, knave, per- 
fidious wretch!” he shouted to the alarmed 
Mustafa; “open your eyes! See, this is my 


A FRIEND IN NEED. 233 

lord ; this is the best friend of your pasha ; 
this is the son of the Pasha of Rumelien ! 
Tremble, for to-day you will be impaled or 
strangled with the silken cord !” 

“ Enough !” said Achmet, throwing off the 
cloak (kaftan) and standing in the splendor of 
his magnificent garments before Mustafa, who 
was utterly confounded, for he at once recog- 
nized the young Bey, who, on account of the 
daring and heroic courage with which he had 
suppressed the insurrection in the province, 
was well known throughout Bagdad. “ Has- 
san, go at once to the pasha and request him 
in my name to come here. He will follow 
without delay, and the judicial sentence will 
crush this man. By Allah, he is a knave 
without an equal !” 

Hassan turned to obey the command, but 
Mustafa threw himself at full length before 
him in the dust, uttering the while abject 

cries of terror, and with both arms clasped 
20 * 


234 the GREEK SLAVE. 

his knees so firmly that Hassan could not 
move from the spot. 

“ Mercy, for the sake of Allah’s grace !” 
whined the miserable knave. “Yes, I have 
deceived you, but I will atone for my crime ! 
Take Philip, take his parents, take my treas- 
ures, my house, my camels — take all, only do 
not let the pasha come ! Spare, only spare 
my life ! By Allah and the Prophet, I will 
repent and do better! I will become a 
good Mussulman 1 I will never again sin 
against the Koran; but pity me and spare 
me I” 

It was a long time before Achmet could 
sufficiently control his indignation so as to 
listen to the infamous Mustafa. At length he 
whispered a few words into Hassan’s ear, 
and then, with a smiling face, said : 

“ It is enough, wretch I Arise and listen ! 
You shall receive pardon on one condition. 
For years you have cruelly treated the parents 


A FRIEND IN NEED. 235 

of poor Philip; you wished to kidnap and 
force the youth to be your slave ; you were 
not touched by his self-sacrificing filial devo- 
tion, and that too after having unmercifully 
torn him from the arms of his parents when 
he was a mere child. You never exercised 
mercy; nevertheless, you shall have mercy 
shown you on the condition that you divide 
your entire estate into two parts, and give the 
choice half to my brave friend Philip. Do 
not hesitate. Only on this condition can 
you hope for favor.” 

**Alas, alas!” moaned Mustafa; “I am a 
ruined man I” 

“ Better be a ruined than a dead man 1” 
coldly retorted Hassan. ‘^Are you willing 
or not ?” 

I cannot ; no, I cannot I” groaned the 
stingy merchant. '' I will let the slaves go 
free without a ransom, but do not ask more 
of me !” 


236 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

“Away then to the pasha, Hassan !” Ach- 
met briefly commanded. 

Hassan made an effort to go, but again 
Mustafa held him fast, and after much twist- 
ing and cringing he offered to pay over to 
Philip one hundred thousand piasters. 

“ Get the money and lead in the slaves !” 
ordered Achmet, and added sternly : “ Do 
not hope to escape me or to deceive me, for 
you well know that the pasha’s justice is 
quick and kills as the lightning !” 

Mustafa sneaked away, and soon after re- 
turned with Philip and his parents. With an 
exclamation of joy the brave youth threw 
himself into the outspread arms of Achmet. 

“You are free and rich, my brother!” 
said Achmet kindly to Philip. “ Allah, who 
always rewards the good, has blessed you. 
This bag of piasters which Mustafa is now 
bringing is your property. Take it, return to 
your home with your parents, and enjoy the 


happiness which you have earned for your- 
self by your faithful filial devotion, by your 
courage, patient endurance and trust in 
Allah’s protection.” 

Philip thought himself dreaming, but the 
repeated assurances of Achmet and Hassan 
finally convinced him that this unexpected 
turn of his hitherto sad fortunes was a blessed 
reality. With beaming eyes he embraced his 
father and mother, on whom, after so many 
long years of slavery and suffering, the sun 
of prosperity again shone by means of the 
undying love of their only child. In company 
with their friends they left the house of Mus- 
tafa, who was the only mean and wretched 
being among that happy and rejoicing group. 
They betook themselves to Achmet’s resi- 
dence, whither the treasure of Mustafa was 
carried after them, and where they remained 
a few weeks in the most pleasant social enjoy- 
ment. Then Philip and his parents returned 


238 THE GREEK SLAVE. 

to Candia, bought back their former posses- 
sions, and spent a life of quiet contentment 
and uninterrupted happiness. Of course, the 
honest Michael Santos, Philip’s foster-father, 
was not forgotten, but became a lifelong and 
cherished member of this happy family. 
To him we owe the present narrative, which 
we trust will place our readers under such 
obligations to the old man as will incline them 
to share the gratitude which Philip feels to- 
ward him who, under God, was the indirect 
meaijs of rescuing his beloved parents from 
slavery. Thus again were these congenial 
hearts united in one household, and their 
devoted, mutual love was the bond of their 
union and the crowning joy of their lives. 

We need say no more. They dwelt to- 
gether in peace, and were happy. Nor did 
they ever cease, with grateful hearts, to praise 
the Lord, who had brought them from dark- 
ness and tribulation into a kingdom of peace 


A FRIEND IN NEED. 239 

and joy through the filial love of their de- 
voted son. How true is the word of the 
Lord: “Honor thy father and mother” — 
which is the first commandment with prom- 
ise — 

** ®I|at it matj be well witlj tljee, anb tljou tnaij= 
tsi Utje long on tlje eartl|/' 





1855 , 1870 , 

LUTHERAN PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 

No. 42 NORTH NINTH STREET, PHILADELPHIA. 

O’. K. Shryock, Superintendent. 


E take pleasure in announcing to the 
Church and to the Trade in general, that 
we have commenced the publication of 
the 

(jfatherland 

as follows: 

*^THE COTTAGE bythe LAKE.” 

Translated from the German of Martin Claudius, by 
Miss R. H. SCHIVELY. “When the need is sorest God’s 
help is nearest.” 

16mo, Cloth, a Beautiful Frontispiece, 160 pages, $0.75. 

“ This volume will supply a want in our Sunday-school 
Libraries, to which the Religious Press has called attention 
— books of a more devotional and evangelical character. 
The Wilmer t'amily is characteiized by all that makes the 





2 


‘Schoenberg Cotta Family’ so univeiially attractive. * * * 
We can confidently recommend this book, translated with 
all elegance of diction, and with all the warmth and pathos 
of the German heart. * * * All classes will be instructed 
and elevated by this kind of literature. It has charms for 
the youthful and the mature, and will profit every one.” — 
Mrs. E. B. S. 


THE MIDST OFTHE NORTH SEA.” 

From the German of Marie Roskowska, by 
J. F. Smith, Esq. 

16m0( Clothi Two Engravings, $0.75. 

A story of life upon one of the lonely little islands (or 
Halligen) lying in the North Sea off the German coast. 
The loneliness and the dangers accompanying a residence 
upon these barren, marshy spots, are dramatically described, 
and the characteristics of the two families are painted most 
naturally. The incidents of “ Lost in the Fog,” “ The 
Shipwreck,” and “The Inundation,” are full of interest; 
and the earnest piety that pervades the narrative will recom- 
mend it to any Christian family or Sabbath School. The 
tale is full of excitement, and yet is anything but sensational. 


ANTON, THE FISHERMAN.'^ 

By Franz Hoffmann. Translated by Mrs. M. A. 

Manderson. 

16mo, Cloth. Three Fine Original Engravings, $0.85. 

“ A very interesting story of humble life, illustrating do- 
mestic happiness, and the prevalence of industry, manliness, 
and integrity — together with the providential deliverances 
that sometimes occur in the midst of the trials that beset 
the believing poor.” — The Lutheran and Missionary^ 
Philadelphia. 


3 


“Anton, the Fisherman.” — “We call the special at- 
tention of the public to this beautiful book, just issued 
by the Lutheran Board of Publication. It is from the 
famous Hoffmann of Dresden, who has won a world-wide 
fame as the writer of popular stories for the young. The 
translation is so natural and graceful, that no one would 
suspect its German origin. The book is in the best style 
of book-making, and has elicited universal admiration. 
Let the Church encourage our publications, with a prompt, 
cheerful, and generous patronage .” — Lutheran Observer. 


‘‘Rene, the Little Savoyard.” 

By Franz Hoffmann. Translated by J. F. Smith, Esq. 
16mo, Cloth, Two Excellent Original Engravings, $0.85, 

« I have just read with great pleasure, ‘ Rend,’ in your 
very attractive Fatherland Series. It is a brilliant little 
story, and is well translated. The children (and their 
parents) will be delighted with these pure and beautiful 
books, which I hope may have the wide , circulation they 
deserve.” Yours, C. P. Krauth. 


“FRITZ; OR, FILIAL LOVE.” 

By Franz Hoffmann. Translated by M. A. Manderson. 
16mo, Cloth, One First Class Original Engraving, $0.65. 

“A charming story, founded upon the life of one of 
Frederick the Great’s generals. The healthy pious tone 
that pervades the book, as well as the literary merit, should 
recommend it to every family and Sunday-school Library. 
We venture to say that no boy will read this pleasant nar- 
rative without wishing to know more of Pmssia’s great 
king.’ 


4 


‘‘GEYER WaLTY; 

OR, FIDELITY REWARDED.” 

By Franz Hoffmann. Translated by M. A. Manderson. 

16mo, Cloth, Seven Superior Original Engravings, 

drawn by D. R. Knight, Esq., and engraved by Van Ingen & Snyder, in 
their very best manner, and printed on the best quality of plate paper. 

We have no fear, in offering this beautiful book to our 
patrons, that they will not be pleased with it, either in a 
literary or artistic point of view. Geyer Walty is a sturdy, 
healthy story, worth reading by young or by old, and will 
bear comparison with the best tales of its class. No pains 
have been spared upon this volume, the translation and en- 
gravings being all original, and of the most expensive 
character. 

The present book is the last of the first set of the Fa- 
therland Series. The 6 volumes will be put up in an 
extra neat case, and will be sold at $5.00, including the box. 

Other Volumes are in preparation, and will be pub- 
lished as rapidly as possible. We trust that in future The 
Lutheran Church will feel that the interests of our 
Sunday Schools will not be neglected. 

We call upon the entire Church to aid us in our efforts. 

The Board of Publication have entered upon this under- 
taking by no means unadvisedly. Co-operating with numer- 
ous German scholars well read in this class of literature, 
we have selected a series of works to be published as 
rapidly as circumstances will permit — works that will 
surely commend themselves to all interested in the Sunday 
School and the family. 

The genuine religious sentiment, the touching pathos, the 
heartsomeness, as well as the dramatic interest of these 
stories of Hoffmann, of Horn, and of kindred writers, are 
well known to the German reader; and we trust by our 


s 


translations to make German thought better known to the 
youthful English reader, whom we hope to familiarize with 
scenes and incidents of the Fatherland. 

We ask the kind consideration and countenance of the 
Book Trade generally, but particularly of those engaged 
in the publishing and sale of Sunday-school books. 

We add a few of the many flattering notices we have 
received from our friends. 

The Fatherland Series. From the German. Phila- 
delphia : Lutheran Board of Publication. — “ Under this 
title the Lutheran Board of Publication have begun what 
promises to be an interesting and useful series of Sunday- 
school books. They comprise translations from some of 
the best German writers for the young, carefully selected 
from an evangelical stand-point, with a view to make Ger- 
man thought better known to English youthful readers, and 
to familiarize them with the scenes and incidents of German 
life. The two volumes just issued are entitled, ‘In the 
Midst of the North Sea,’ and ‘Anton, the Fishennan.’ 
Both are interesting, capital books, having a good deal of 
dramatic power, and pervaded by a beautiful Christian 
faith and simplicity. The first named shows the sad evils 
of an envious, jealous spirit; and the last is a testimony 
tolhe sure word of Scripture, ‘ Trust in the Lord and do 
good, so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shall 
be fed .’” — The Sunday-school Times. 

Lawrence, Kansas, March i, 1870. 

“Your books lately published, ‘In the Midst of the 
North Sea,’ and ‘Anton, the Fisherman,’ are first rate, and 
with such books your reputation will soon be established. 
I am well pleased with your commendable efforts and 
xuccess in getting out good books. 

“Yours, 11. B. Belmer.” 


6 


New Middletown^ March 2, 1870. 

“ I received ‘ In the Midst of the North Sea,’ sent by 
you a couple of weeks since. Thank you for your kindness 
in sending it. Have read it carefully. Am highly pleased 
with it. Think it a perfect gem for the Sabbath School. 
Besides many other valuable lessons, it clearly exhibits the 
hand of Providence in the preservation of the Islanders. 

« Yours, J. B. Miller.” 

Bainbridge, Fa., March 7, 1870. 

“ I have read ‘ Anton,’ and am even better pleased with 
it than I was with ‘ In the Midst of the North Sea.’ Good, 
better. I am, truly and fraternally, 

“Yours, F. T. Hoover.” 

New GermantoTvn, March 15, 1870. 

“ The publications you send me are admirable every way 
.ind I only wish I could sell many of them for you. 

“Yours, J. C. Duy.” 

Sharpsville, Tipton Co., Ind., March 20, 1870 

“ I hereby acknowledge the receipt of two volumes of 
your Sunday-school Publications, ‘ North Sea,’ and ‘Anton.’ 
I have hastily perused these little narratives, and find them 
very interesting and spicy, and can heartily recommend 
them to the Sabbath School and the public generally, as 
safe companions for both young and old. 

“A. H. Scherer.” 

Harrisburg, March 29, 1870. 

“‘How do I like the series?’ Well, really, I hardly 
know how to express myself; but I have a little four-year- 
old chip of the old block, who, when anything pleases 
him very mu h, says, ‘ Do it again.’ Now, that is just what 


7 


I say to the publisher and the translator : Do it again, and 
you do the Church good. 

** Fraternally yours, Jno. J. Rebman.” 

Croton Landing, March 30, 1870. 

“I am very much pleased with your ‘Fatherland 
Series,’ Yours, truly, W. B. Askam.” 

College Hill, O., March 30, 1870. 

“ Enclosed pleased find 85 cents for Ren^, which I read 
with zest, and think it to be a good book for our American 
youth. Yours in X., J. C. Brodfuehrer.” 

Newton, Iowa, April 7, 1870. 

“ Your new books, translations from the German, are 
highly popular. Go on with the good work. We are glad 
to get them as fast as published. 

“Yours in Gospel bonds, H. S. Cook.” 

Smithsburg, Md., April 2, 1870. 

“ The books are beautiful and good. 

“Yours, L. J. Bell.” 

Orangeville, III., April 2, 1870. 

“ I have just received yours of 25th ult., together with 
the book you sent by mail. I have received three — * North 
Sea,’ * Anton,’ and ‘ Rene,’ which, by the way, are the 
most excellent Sunday-school books I have ever had the 
pleasure to examine, and I thank God that our Publication 
Society has the honor of bringing them before the public. 

“ Yours, truly, J. K. Bloom.” 

Bainbridge, Pa., April 2, 1870. 

“ Our school here at B. has ordered a copy of each of 
the Fatherland Series. I have read the opening chapter 
of ‘ Ren^.’ Our librarian at Maytown, Mr. C. Peck, says 
it is the best Sunday-school book he has read for a long 
time. Yours, F. T. Hoover.” 


8 


York, Pa., April £f, 1870. 

“ Please send me ‘ Cottage by the Lake.’ The othe' 
volumes of the Fatherland Series I have. I am much 
pleased with the books. If you publish a thousand volumes, 
send them all to me, and draw on me for the amount they 
cost. • J. H. Menge^.” 

Lockport, April 9, 1870. 

“ Since I ^have three of the Series you are publishing at 
present, I would desire to have the first number — ‘The 
Cottage by the Lake.’ This number you have not sent me. 
Those you sent me I read with great interest, and am much 
pleased with them, and trust they may be largely circulated. 

“ Yours, truly, M. Ort.” 

Canlon, O., April 4, 1870. 

“ Enclosed find the amount of your bill for the ‘ Father- 
land Series.’ The books are very interesting, and my 
children are delighted with them. 

“Yours, L. M. Kuhns.” 

Harrisburg, April 7, 1870. 

“Your book entitled ‘Fritz,’ is all right. Go ahead; 
the more of that kind you publish the better. 

“ Your<«, fraternally, G. F. Steeling,” 

Selinsgrove, April 6, 1870. 

“ I am glad to see you bringing out such nice, neat books. 
You can send us one copy of all new publications until 
otherwise ordered. Consider us standing subscribers. 

“ Yours, J. G. L. Shindel.” 

Frostburg, Md., April 6, 1870. 

“‘The Fatherland Series’ I am pleased with. They 
compare favorably with any of the publications of the day 
—are a credit to the Society. 

“ Yours, 


H. Bishop.” 


9 


Loysville, April 8, 1870. 

“ I received ‘ In the Midst of the North Sea,’ and 
* Anton, the Fisherman,’ and am pleased with them. 

“ Yours, etc. P. Willard.’ 

New Germantown^ April 5, 1870. 

“The Fatherland Series are very beautiful specimens of 
book-making, and their contents are very interesting. My 
family are delighted with them. 

“Yours, truly, J. C. Dtiv.” 

Albany, N. V., April 5, 1870. 

“The last issue of the ‘ Fatherland Series’ received. I 
am much pleased with all these books. You are now 
taking the right course to supply our Church with a Sun- 
day-school literature. You may send me one of each issue, 
as you have been doing, and let me know if I can assist 
you in any other way. 

“ Yours, S. P. Sprecher.” 

New Vor/^, 196 2d Avenue, April 6, 1870, 

“ I am delighted with the Series. 

“ Yours, truly, A. C. Wedekind.” 

•' Litchfield, III,, April 4, 1870. 

“I have received three books, ‘Anton,’ ‘ North Sea,’ and 
‘ Rene.’ I am well pleased with them. 

“ Yours, etc. B. F. Crouse.” 

Chamber sburg, April Of, 1870. 

“I have received ‘Rene,’ and it is a very interesting 
book. Yours, fraternally, C. Lepley.” 

Red Hook, N. Y., April 4, 1870. 

“‘Rene’ came to hand on Friday last. Am delighted 
with it — feel quite proud of our Publication House. 

“Yours, truly, W. II. Luchenbach.” 


lO 


Loysville, April 9, 1870. 

“ I have read your Fatherland Series with much pleasure 
and profit. They are among the most interesting Sabbath- 
school books I have yet read. I could hardly wait till 
the second and third volumes arrived. The Church and 
Sabbath Schools certainly owe you a debt of gratitude for 
the interest you take in promoting and circulating such in- 
teresting Sabbath-school literature. May God bless you in 
your eftbrts, and the Church appreciate your labors ! 

« Yours, truly, D. Sell.” 

Wheelings W. Va., April 1 1, 1870. 

“The Fatherland Series continue greatly to interest and 
please me. May still greater success attend your efforts is 
the prayer of Saml. B. Barnitz.” 

“ The translation of ‘ Die Halligen ’ and of ‘ Anton ’ is 
pure and good, and we have nothing but praise to utter in 
regard to the taste and style in which the agent of the 
Board has sent them forth. They are good books for the 
young .”- — Lutheran and Missionary^ Phila. 

“‘Die Halligen; or. In the Midst of the North Sea,’ 
translated from the German of Marie Roskowska, for the 
Lutheran Board of Publication, is a scene from life under 
circumstances little known to most of us — life on the flat 
islets of the North Sea. The tale is told with a delightful 
simplicity and piety, and the whole effect of the book is ex- 
cellent. Contentment is shown to be better than envy.” — 
Presbyterian Monthly. 

“‘Die Halligen; or. In the Midst of the North Sea.’ 
Those who dwell on small islands in the sea, and are given 
up to a seafaring life, are often exposed to most imminent 
perils. Such was the case with those whose fortunes are 
portrayed in the present interesting narrative. In the midst 


II 


of all, however, tneir unwavering trust in Him who holds 
the destinies of all in His hands never failed them, and 
they accordingly experienced what may be truly termed 
miraculous deliverances. The translation is most happily 
executed, and the mechanical part of the work is such, also, 
as to commend it to favor.” — Reformed Messenger, Phila. 

" Franz Hoffmann’s writings, in the original German, are 
deservedly popular. Their moral tendency is good, while 
they are highly entertaining. They are well worthy of the 
effort that is now made in different directions to clothe 
them in an English dress, for the benefit of the English 
community.” — Reformed Messenger, Phila. 

HOFFMANN, THE AUTHOR OF 

ANTON, THE FISHERMAN. 

BY EEV. T. STOEK, D. D. 

We announced last week, the publication of “Anton 
the Fisherman,” by the Lutheran Board of Publication. 
Before speaking of the book, we wish to say something 
about the author — Alex. Friedr. Franz Hoffmann, of 
Dresden. In his early life he was a bibliopolist in Bem- 
berg. But, soon weary of the mere mercantile handling 
of books, and following his literary tendencies, he spent 
some time in Halle, and attended a course of lectures on 
philosophy and physical science. He subsequently re- 
moved to Dresden, and began his literary career with an 
adaptation of the Thousand and One Nights f for the 
young, which, with a few original stories, met with such 
universal favor, that he afterward devoted himself to 
popular literature, with special reference to the young. 
Since 1840, he has published more than a hundred differ- 


12 


ent stories, legends, etc., all of which reached several 
editions, and many have been translated. He has, also, 
published since 1846, the ^^Deutschen Jugen Freund^'' one 
of the very best periodicals of its kind. The amount of 
his literary labor seems almost incredible to an American. 
But we remember another great writer of fiction, who, after 
the age of fifty-six, produced thirty volumes in three years. 
Hoffmann has something of the genius and energy of Scott. 
When Scott began to break down from his great labors, 
Mr. Abercrombie implored him to desist from writing : “ I 
tell you what it is. Doctor,” said Scott, “when Molly puts 
the kettle on, you might as well say, don’t boil.” 

Hoffmann is among the most favorite of the almost in- 
numerable story-tellers of Germany. Our first acquaint- 
ance with him was made in this “ Anton, the Fisherman.” 
The firct three chapters were read to us from the manuscript 
by the translator. We were charmed. At first we thought 
a good deal of the interest we felt might be attributable 
to the reader, for there is something in the reading of a 
woman of culture and sensibility — the tremulous intona- 
tions of the voice, and the peculiar heart-emphasis — that 
always affects us; but a subsequent perusal of the story 
confirmed our first impressions of its exquisite beauty. 

This Anton is a. narrative of humble life. It has variety 
of character and incident, without complexity or affectation ; 
it pictures domestic sorrow the most afflictive, without over- 
stepping the modesty of nature, or the simplicity of truth. 
The incidents are not only beautiful, but probable. They 
are such as might occur in any common life. The spirit 
of the narrative is not only moral, but religious. And yet 
the story has no formal moral for its end, which is always 
the case in a true work of art. The moral should be in 
the spirit of purity and power with which it acts, and so in 
this story of Anton you may make manifold moral uses of 
\t. One of the most difficult things for writers of fiction, 


13 


is to give a true ideal of childhood, as any one can see by 
recalling the Mignone of Goethe, the Fenella of Scott, the 
little Islell of Dickens. We do not say that Hoffmann has 
stood this test of genius ; but in Louisa he has given us a 
child that is morally most beautiful and winsome, that 
reminds one of Hawthorne’s Pearl, “ who seems to have 
lost her pathway out of heaven, and found herself on earth, 
smiling with the sweetness of higher spheres, yet sombre 
also with the melancholy of this lower world.” 

Altogether, this story, in its religious tone and influence, 
as well as a work of art, is far above most of the current 
literature of our Sunday Schools. For there is a good deal 
written for this department, that is not much better than the 
brain-sick stories for namby-pamby magazines, and in which 
the young would find it as difficult to get any true idea of 
religion, as it would be to study finance in the tale of 
Aladdin, or to learn geography in Gulliver’s Travels. We 
will only add, that the translation is in pure and fluent 
English, with the graceful touch of a woman of culture and 
refinement ; and our Superintendent has given us the book 
in a form and style of beauty that must win universal admi- 
ration. 

** Blessings,” says Sancho, “ on the man that first invented 
sleep — it comes round one like a cloak, and covers him all 
over.” Blessings, we say, on the man that invented fiction. 
Blessings on all genuine story-tellers. Blessings on those 
who have enlarged the domain of the ideal, who call new 
inhabitants into this empire, with whom it is pleasant, as 
well as profitable, to be acquainted, who, while they min- 
’ster to innocent pleasure, improve the heart . — Lutheran 
Observer^ Phila. 



14 


Sharon Centre, O., April 29, 1870. 

** I received two small volumes from your establishment. 
They are very tasty and carefully gotten up, and the stories 
are quite interesting, not only to children, but even to older 
persons. 

« Resp’y yours, J. Schaiier.” 

THE COTTAGE BY THE LAKE.— ANTON, THE 
FISHERMAN.— RENE, THE LITTLE 
SAVOYARD. 

(From the Lutheran Publication Society, No. 42 North 
Ninth Street, Philadelphia.) 

These volumes, beautiful and attractive in appearance, 
belong to the Fatherland Series, of which we have already 
announced; “In the Midst of the North Sea,” and “Fritz, 
or Filial Love.” 

^^The Cottage^'* is charming. Evangelical devotion and 
faith, which worketh by love, form a complete picture, life- 
like, and well deserving to be copied, not only by the cot- 
tager, but also by those inhabiting mansions. 

*‘Anton.” Now this is the very book for both young 
and old. We see verified the blessed words: “Trust in 
the Lord and do good : so shalt thou dwell in the land, 
and verily thou shalt be fed.” 

^'ReniP All the little Savoyards we ever saw had dirty 
faces ; but we have read some charming stories about them, 
and this is equal to any and all previous ones. 

No Sabbath-school library should be without this Series. 
The Sunday-school Times says they “ are interesting and 
capital books — pervaded by a beautiful Christian faith and 
simplicity.” Rev. Dr. Krauth and Mrs. E. B. S. speak in 
the highest terms of them; and for a wonder — the Lu- 
theran and Missionary and the Lutheran Observer see eye 
to eye, and unite in praising the same work. — Lutheran 
Visitor, Columbia, S. C. 


15 


Ren^. By Franz Hoffjnann. 

This is one of Franz Hoffmann’s most thrilling stories. 
The hero of it was a poor orphan boy, who accomplished 
wonders, and illustrated in his varied and marvellous ex- 
perience, the exceedingly great power acquired by a simple 
unwavering trust in God. The rendering into English is 
happily executed. — Reformed Church Messenger^ Phila. 

Fritz; or^ Filial Obedience. By Franz Hoffmann. 
This is one of the issues of the Lutheran Board of Pub- 
lication, under the general title of “ The Fatherland Series.” 
It is intended to illustrate the great value and importance 
of true filial obedience. Fritz was an only child of humble 
parents, and though urged forward by almost irresistible 
impulses to acts of which his parents disapproved, yet in 
every instance he cheerfully restrained himself, as soon as 
their wishes were made known. By practically following 
out this principle, with the strictest fidelity, he eventually 
attained to a high position of honor with his sovereign, and 
was instrumental in placing his aged parents in circum- 
stances of ease and comfort. “ Honor thy father and thy 
mother” is the commandment with promise. The style 
of the work is peculiarly attractive. — Reformed Church 
Messenger y Phil a. 

Fritz ; or^ Filial Obedience. Translated from the German 
of Franz Hoffmann. Published by the Lutheran Board, 
No. ’42 North Ninth Street, Philadelphia. 

This is a number of the “ Fatherland Series,” issued by 
this Board. Its scene is in Silesia, in the times of Frede- 
rick the Great, who himself is one of the characters. It 
is an excellent book for the family, illustrating the Fourth 
Conrjnandment with great force and beauty. — Lutheran and 
Missionary f Phila, 


i6 


Fritz. Philadelphia Lutheran Board of Publication. 

The second of the Fatherland Series. The Fourth Com- 
mandment is admirably illustrated, and though there is a 
little too much of real war, yet the portrait of Frederick 
the Great; the sketch of the old under-officer; the two 
honest peasants ; the tender-hearted mother; the father who. 
rules his household as a patriarch ; the son who, though it 
undermines his strength and makes his path cheerless, yet 
perseveres in honoring father and mother ; and the final 
happiness and rejoicing of all the parties, are life-like pen- 
pictures. The boys and girls must all read it . — Lutheran 
Visitor, Columbia, S. C. 

The Fatherland Series, is the title of a series of 
Sabbath-school books now in course of publication by the 
Lutheran Publication Society. They are translations from 
the German, are all pervaded with the spirit of a true and 
practical Christianity, and promise to furnish a new and 
better class of Sunday-school literature than much that is 
now found in these libraries. 

Anton, the Fisherman, is written by Hoffmann, of 
Dresden, one of the famous story-writers of Germany. It 
is an interesting domestic story of humble life, calculated 
to interest youth, and at the same time inculcate lessons of 
industry, integrity, and piety. The book well deserves a 
place in every Sunday-school library. It is well printed, 
and substantially and tastefully bound, making a handsome 
volume of nearly two hundred pages. 

In the Midst of the North Sea is a deeply inter- 
esting story of the trials and sufferings of the hardy inhab- 
itants of the small islands in thie North Sea, along the 
German coast. Its tale of thrilling adventure, and the 
strange attachment of the hardy Germans for their bleak, 
barren, island homes, will be read with interest by old and 
young . — Bedford Inquirer, Pa. 


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